


Unforgettable

by Sisterofmayhem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:58:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterofmayhem/pseuds/Sisterofmayhem
Summary: It is said that miracles do happen at Christmas. But what Harry wants, doesn't fit under the Christmas tree.





	1. Christmas shopping

December the 24th 2017, London

The only positive thing about white gloves and Santa hats was that they kept your hands and ears warm when it was cold outside, but other than that, they were an utter pest.

“Stop scratching,” Rachida told him tersely, “Your nose is starting to look irritated.”

Severus Snape sat awkwardly on a chair in a cluttered office at the back of Holland and Barrett, London, and tried to come to terms with the white, fake beard pasted under his nose. The itching didn’t help. He glared at the woman and grumbled: “Remind me why I am doing this again?”

Rachida shot a look at him and her face softened as she winked at him: “Because you’re an angel, of course.”

Severus huffed and shook his head, as he pulled on the surprisingly heavy black boots. There was a pillow stuffed beneath his clothes, and it was bothering him as he bent forward to lace his boots. 

“I shall tell you why I’ll do it, because you and I both know I am no angel," Severus countered, “I’m simply doing this because you are my boss and you’ll pay me handsomely for it.” Rachida shrugged and threw him a smirk: “Works for me, darling.”

“I’m no darling, either.”

“Ssh, stay still,” she shushed him, as she tried to carefully put the Santa hat on top of the wig.

“Well, it sure isn’t because I want to stand in for ‘Donkey’…”

“It’s _Duncan_!” she chastised him, “And give him some credit. The guy only works here for two weeks.”

“Exactly. Two weeks in and already he becomes ill, and today of all days?”

She didn’t answer and frowned in concentration as she fussed over the hat and the wig.

“There, perfect! I’ll fetch you a mirror,” she said. A moment later Severus was frowning at his own reflection.

“This is ridiculous, Rachida,” he tried one last time, “I’m just too old for this.”

Rachida didn’t listen to his pleas, crouched down next to him and put a hand on his knee.

“You will be a great Santa, Severus,” she promised, “The kids will love it.”

“And you will… I mean, the company will forever be in my debt?”

“Naturally.” 

                                                                                                                            +++

December the 24th 2017, Cornwall

Harry knew Ginny Weasley well enough to know when she was up to something. More precisely, he knew the exact moment he opened the door and saw the too-bright smile on her freckled face and the small Honeydukes bag with fizzing wizzbees she held in her hand.

“Hey Harry, wow, you look great! I brought you a present. Your favourite, right?” she asked lightly, thrusting the candies towards him while ushering the kids inside. Harry absentmindedly petted Lucy’s hair when the little girl flung her arms around his legs, but he kept his gaze on Ginny.

“You’re awfully cheerful,” he wondered suspiciously.

She just shrugged and said: “Can’t a girl be chirpy? It’s Christmas.”

Harry wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

“What are the candies for?” he inquired. She shrugged again and repeated: “I told you, it’s Christmas and I’m feeling cheerful.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and shook his head, smirking.

“Ginny, I know you. You secretly despise Christmas. You couldn’t be cheerful if you wanted to.”

“Well, that's a bit harsh,” she spluttered, but Harry just gestured with his head, as if saying ‘Out with it, woman.’

Ginny pouted and hung her head.

“You don’t think I can be cheerful?” she mock-complained.

Harry couldn’t help chuckling: the crestfallen look on her face was priceless. He’d almost reached out to muss up her hair like he used to, when he noticed that his son, Liam, who apparently had only been pretending to play with his Gameboy, was watching them with questioning eyes. He refrained. It would be cruel to give their children the wrong impression.

“I don’t think so, no,” he said instead, “Being cheerful is a girl’s sentiment.”

Harry thought the punch against his chest was rather deserved. He rubbed the painful spot, remembering belatedly that Ginny didn’t hold back when she was irritated.

“You’re a lousy ex-wife, too, forgetting my birthday,” he told her, tagging on a smile to show he was only joking. She hit him again. Twice.

“But,” and he raised a finger to keep her from molesting him a third time, “You  _are_ a really great mother to our kids, Gin.”

The comment ironically seemed to deflate her like a balloon.

“Oh Harry, I’m a terrible mother,” she sighed, while her shoulders sagged in defeat, “I’ve been so busy preparing for Christmas dinner tomorrow, I completely forgot Lucy needs a new winter coat.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“ _That's_ the favour you wanted to ask?”

Ginny nervously bit her nail.

“I will pay half the price, of course. Samuel’s just got his end-of-year bonus, so money is not…”

But Harry was already shaking his head.

“No, no, no,” he argued, “ I don’t think so, Gin. If I let you contribute, what do you think will happen? You’ll want to have your say and it’ll be a coat with those disgustingly pink elves on it again. I absolutely forbid it.”

Ginny chuckled and shook her head, cheeks red like she’d just been found out. A small hand tugged on his pants and Harry looked down. It was Lucy.

“But daddy,” she piped up in her high little girl’s voice, “I like elves.”

She looked at him with puppy eyes and Harry picked her up.

“You’re wrong, grumpy,” he told her, “You only think you like elves. But don’t worry, daddy’s going to get you a nice blue winter coat that’ll match your ginger locks perfectly.”

He looked Ginny in the eye, silently daring her. She just snorted.

“You’re so gay,” she said and looked away absentmindedly.

“I’m not grumpy,” Lucy complained quietly.

Harry couldn’t have agreed more.

                                                                                                                  +++

It had been a simple matter to convince his eleven-year-old son to go shopping for clothes. He only had to drop the word  _London_  and Liam had been all for it.

“Oh dad, can we go to the Lego store then?” he’d begged, “There’s this new Star Wars ship that I really have to see. Please, dad!”

Ginny and Samuel had moved to a muggle neighbourhood a year ago, and ever since Liam had been taken in tow by his two muggle friends, Star Wars was all that mattered. Never mind that his own parents and his uncle Ron and aunt Hermione had fought in a real wizard war. Harry wasn’t in the mood to argue, so he’d agreed. His son had hugged him to death and swore that he was the best dad in the whole world.

Harry was secretly glad Liam wasn’t showing much interest for the war. It meant he didn’t have to answer painful or awkward questions or talk about a past he was still trying to come to terms with. Of course, Liam did get grilled by his classmates about his famous dad, or so his son had admitted to him once. But Harry always got the impression Liam was a bit confused by his friends’ curiosity, like he couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was just his father, you know. Big deal. It’s not like he had ever seen him do anything heroic apart from unclogging the rain gutter.

Lucy on the other hand was a different kettle of fish. She was only seven, so still a bit too young to grasp the impact of everything that had happened in the war, but she did have an affinity for things she didn’t need to know yet. Especially when it came to her dad. A year or so ago she’d wanted to know why he had married mum if he knew he liked boys better (she always talked about ‘boys’, never about ‘men’, even though Harry was pushing forty by now). And if he preferred boys, then why hadn’t he yet found one he wanted to be together with, just like mum had with Samuel. It wasn’t easy to answer questions like that without turning red, but he felt he ought to at least try when her concern seemed so genuine. Contrary to Liam, whom Harry suspected had always clung to a shred of hope that he and Ginny would one day get back together, Lucy wanted nothing more than that her dad found himself a nice, easy-going boyfriend. Preferably one who was the owner of a unicorn farm.

“Daddy, was that boy flirting with you just then?” she innocently asked when the three of them left the Lego shop and tried to make their way through the huge crowd at Westfield shopping center. Harry shot a glance at Liam, who was busy admiring his new toy, and shook his head, amused. Lucy was really much too young to be asking questions like that.

“What makes you think that?” he asked her, as he tried not to let his incredulous smile show.

In fact, the shop assistant had been very obvious in his attempt. Once Liam had told him his dad had never seen a Star Wars movie, the man had been more than eager to introduce him to them. He’d given Harry his phone number, looking way too innocent when he did so. Still, for a seven-year-old girl to pick up on such a thing…

“Well, he wanted to take you on a date to the movies,” Lucy succinctly analysed, “so I just thought…”

She trailed off and Harry hummed in agreement.

“Mmh, you might be right, pumpkin. Perhaps he was flirting. But don’t you think he looked a little bit too young for me?”

His daughter nodded decidedly: “Yes, I think so too. Way too young. Maybe erm… only a bit older than Hugo?”

Harry laughed. Hugo was Ron and Hermione’s son. The boy was twelve.

“I think he may be a bit older than Hugo, wouldn’t you agree? This boy already had a job, so he had to be at least eighteen.”

“Oh… yeah,” Lucy muttered, smiling. Harry mussed up her hair and Lucy pretended to be annoyed about it, but a few steps further down, she took his hand and leaned against his leg. Harry hugged his daughter closer to his side and smiled. He looked at Liam, who was walking next to them, still mooning over his space ship.

“You seem happy with your new toy, Liam,” Harry remarked. Talk about stating the obvious.

“Mm-mmh,” Liam mumbled, and graced him with a quick smile before he continued investigating the box.

Harry sighed dramatically: “Oh boy, you’re not going to speak for the rest of the day, are you?”

That got Liam’s attention at last. His son looked at him with blushing cheeks.

“Sorry, dad,” he apologized, “Thanks. You’re the best.” He hugged Harry’s other side.

“I know, son, I know. But,” Harry said, and grunted as Liam poked him in the ribs, “remember to tell your mum that this is a present from me. Not from Santa, all right?”

He didn’t know if Liam understood the reason behind it, but he nodded easily enough.

“Well, let’s see if we can find… Oh, there it is already!”

Harry led his kids towards the next shop for Lucy’s new winter coat. They didn’t have to search for long. The saleswoman took one look at Lucy and said she had just the right thing. She came back with a thick, pale blue woollen coat with a double row of buttons and a blue, velvet collar. Lucy looked perfect in it. As he looked at his daughter, who was twirling and admiring herself in front of the mirror, he noticed the saleswoman was watching her with an almost dazed expression. After a few seconds, she blinked out of it, turned to him and smiled.

“Wow, she really is adorable,” she chuckled, almost as if she couldn’t really believe what she was seeing. Harry fixed his gaze on his daughter again and nodded thoughtfully. He’d noticed Lucy having that effect on people before. He’d wondered if it was just her personality shining through, or if it had something to do with her own, special brand of magic. Fact was, she moved people.

“Yes, she’s something special, isn’t she?” Harry acknowledged, “She gets it from her mum.”

“I bet she gets it from you,” the woman replied. Harry blinked at her. He couldn’t help thinking about the coincidence. Twice in a row now? It must really be his lucky day. He chuckled. The woman looked like she only just now realized what she’d blurted out. She put a hand on her forehead. Her cheeks were flaming as she mumbled: “Sorry. That just came out. I apologize.” Harry didn’t know what else to do but to laugh and thank her for the compliment. At the cash desk Lucy was the perfect distraction for the awkward silence when she asked if she could wear the coat already. She wanted to take a picture so she could send it to all of her friends.

“Or maybe I shouldn’t,” she backpedalled a second later, as she looked to be contemplating something.

“Why not?” Harry asked, curious, as he took out his wallet. But his daughter only pressed her lips together and flushed.

“She’s just afraid Jessica will buy the same coat as hers,” Liam spilled. Lucy blushed as everyone laughed, but she retorted quickly: “It has happened before! You know, dad, with the brown boots I got for Christmas last year? Guess who's got the same pair now? Like there aren’t tons of shoes to pick from!”

Harry just shook his head.

“You’re absolutely right,” the saleswoman encouraged Lucy, “If I were you, I wouldn’t tell a soul where you got this coat.”

“You realize that’s bad for business, do you?” Harry remarked.

“Ssh, I know,” the woman hissed, playing along rather well, Harry thought, “Don’t tell my boss, all right?”

“My lips are sealed,” Harry promised and then cursed himself for saying that as the woman’s gaze flitted to his lips for just a second. She blushed. Harry paid for the coat, not wanting to stay in the shop any longer than necessary. As he steered his kids out of the store, Lucy remarked with a sly smile: “Was that girl also flirting with you, dad?”

“Just shut up, you,” he said, as he chuckled and lightly jabbed her forward. Liam had picked up on the banter between them and looked at his dad with a slight frown on his face.

O- oh, a distraction, Harry thought. Quick.

He looked at his watch and proposed: “We’ve still got plenty of time left. Perhaps we can stop by the playground in Kensington Park?”

Lucy had been all for it, but Liam was a tougher nut to crack. At least the distraction had worked.

“Dad, that’s at least an hour long walk!” he complained.

“Half an hour,” he corrected, and then, more quiet, “And we’ll Apparate, of course.”

“Playgrounds are stupid,” he grumbled.

“Well, you can sit on a bench with me and stare a bit more at your space ship. That’s not too bad now, is it?”

“I want to go play with it,” Liam lamented, “Why do I always have to do what Lucy feels like?”

For want of something better, Liam kicked the floor.

“You know that’s not true,” Harry argued, “Only last week we all went to that baseball game just for you. Did you hear Lucy complain then?”

“Yes, Liam. Did you hear me complain then?” Lucy piped up with a smirk on her face. Liam was about to reply to that and Harry decided to step in before things got out of hand. Sly devil, he thought and smiled inwardly, as he rebuked Lucy.

“If we stay at the playground for one hour,” Harry reasoned, “it will be four o’clock. Then we’ll Apparate home and you’ll have until six until your mum picks you up. That’s still plenty of time to play, Liam.”

Not long after that his son reluctantly agreed, so they left the shopping center and tried to find a secluded space on the parking lot.

“You two aren’t easy to please,” Harry mumbled, as he hugged his kids to his sides, and with a muted ‘pop’, they Apparated. They arrived on the edge of a reasonably crowded street, and Harry immediately understood he had somehow miscalculated. They were supposed to appear in the park, somewhere between the bushes, where nobody would notice them.

“Shit,” Harry whispered, as sweat broke out on his brow. He stood stock-still and inconspicuously surveyed his surroundings to check if anyone had seen them popping out of thin air. His children were anxiously clutching at his arms, but they as well didn’t move an inch. As it slowly dawned on him nobody was throwing them suspicious looks, he allowed himself to relax a bit.

“All right,” he spoke, “all right, nothing’s happened. Daddy made a mistake, but nobody saw. So we’re good, right?”

His gaze trailed down at Liam and Lucy, who were looking at him with round eyes.

“I don’t know how I could have misjudged,” he admitted to them, “Maybe you shouldn’t tell mum. Apparently I’m getting sloppy.”

He winked at them to try and get them out of their stupor, and luckily they laughed at his remark. Still a bit shaken, they started walking down the street. Harry could already see the park, so at least they weren’t far off. He shook his head and again wondered what exactly had gone wrong. Perhaps all of the flirting was getting to his head. It had been a while since his concentration was so shot he couldn’t even properly Apparate. Harry tried to remember if anyone at work had said something about him not being focused lately, but he couldn’t recall. Of course, that might be part of the problem, Harry thought. As he worked at the Department of Muggle relations, he did need his wits about him, so he intended to ask his colleague Monday morning, just to be sure. He and Kingsley did have a meeting with the muggle minister of internal affairs next week. It was only informal, to deliver the wizarding world’s New Year’s wishes, but still…

His kids had gone a bit quiet, until they saw a small gathering of people a little further down the street. It turned out to be a queue leading up to a raised platform. A portly man, dressed in red and white was sitting on a large, purple throne. Liam and Lucy turned around as one, excitement in their eyes.

“Go on then,” Harry laughed, as he gestured towards the line of people waiting, “You go ahead and save me a place.” They didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Park and incident already forgotten, they ran towards the queue. As Harry walked closer, he saw that one shop in particular stood out. The front of ‘Holland and Barrett’ was rather ostentatiously decorated with red lanterns and gold garlands, flickering lights, a huge Christmas tree and gift-wrapped presents. It was a little over the top, but then again, it was Christmas. It seemed like someone had put a fair amount of work in it, though, and Harry could appreciate that at least. Christmas carols spilled out of the shop and flowed onto the street, and, together with the Christmas street lights display, Harry had to admit the overall feel was quite alluring. He put his hands deep in his pockets to keep them warm while he made his way through the small crowd of people already gathered behind his children. Now people did stare at him, Harry thought, finding this quite ironic. Miracles might be happening right under their noses and they didn’t notice, but cut in line and they immediately got all worked up.

Harry was a bit surprised Liam had been so excited. He knew for sure his son didn’t believe in Santa anymore, but here he was, all nervous about meeting Saint Nick. He'd talked about it with Ginny once. Her theory was that Liam was indeed becoming a teenager, acting tough when he was with his friends and all. But you could always pick out the moments, she’d claimed, when Liam hesitated and you could clearly see on his face he just wanted to be a child sometimes. Maybe this was one of those moments, Harry thought. And why would he ruin that by reminding his son he didn’t believe in Santa anymore?

Santa, by the way, looked to be making his way through the children at top speed. Only seven minutes had passed, and already they were fifth in line. At least he won’t be getting rid of Lucy that easily, Harry thought a bit frostily. He scrutinized the man, trying to determine if his kids were about to land on the lap of Mr. Jackass of the Year. Santa’s head was bent forward, as he was presumably listening to what the girl on his lap had to say, and only his long, straight nose was clearly visible from this distance. Strange, Harry thought, that nose almost looks like…

The next moment Santa looked up and for a second it felt like Harry's blood turned to ice. Harry unconsciously took a step back, he was so surprised, and as he did so he collided with the woman behind him. He profusely apologized, but she didn't seem to mind much. Harry willed himself to calm down as his gaze was drawn back to the man on the throne. It was really him. Shite, Harry though. All right, take a breath, this was just his old teacher. He’d talked civilly with him before; after the war he’d even made amends with the man, for Merlin’s sake, so there was no reason at all why his hands should feel so sweaty. Taking a few unnoticeable breaths, Harry managed to cool down after a while. He shook his head. It was just the shock of seeing him here, he reasoned, but everything’s cool, he was a grown-up man now and he could talk to him like he was just a normal person.

Harry woke from his trance when he heard people around him, parents and children alike, start to laugh about something. He looked at Severus Snape in his Santa costume and blinked. One of the mothers was perched on his lap. Her cheeks were flushed and she smiled a self-conscious smile, which Harry would have found quite endearing in other circumstances. As it were, he could only manage a half-hearted smile as Lucy and Liam were pulling on his sleeve, pointing and honestly beaming with amusement.

“What would you like for Christmas this year?” he could just make out Severus asking. They were third in line now. Harry noticed that the man was red-faced himself, and was trying to ignore the lewd catcalls from the crowd. The woman mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but Severus leaned closer and as the woman repeated her answer, Harry heard the short bark of laughter. He turned his head.

He purposefully picked at a spot on his sleeve. What on earth was Severus doing here? His gaze wandered back to the brightly-lit shop. He assumed Severus was working there now. But why? He was the most talented potioneer of the century. It didn't seem like the kind of job Severus would want. Unless, perhaps,... Maybe he was just trying to keep a low profile. He'd said something like that the last time he'd talked to the man. There'd been no news from Severus in the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler, so if that was his strategy, it apparently paid off.

It didn't explain why somebody had deemed it safe to put Severus on that throne, though. Seriously, what had they been thinking? Harry shook his head as he watched the man lean back and stare at the boy on his lap as if he had just crapped on him. The image startled a laugh out of him and Harry whispered to himself, amused despite everything: “Severus, everyone can see that. Try and act your part.”

There was only one person in front of them now, and as Severus absentmindedly let his gaze linger, it fell on Harry and his kids. Harry didn’t think he would be forgetting the look on the man’s face for a very long time. As their turn finally rolled around, Severus didn’t say anything, but as it was he didn’t have to. Lucy didn’t waste any time in crawling on his lap and introducing herself. Severus looked at Lucy for a second, then back at Harry and rolled his eyes.

“Figures,” he muttered quietly and Harry, despite his nerves, couldn’t help but smirk. Lucy asked for the usual: she wanted a white unicorn for Christmas. Not just the regular kind, though. This one had to be able to talk, she would name him Bubbles and he would love the cupcakes she made for him. Harry could see Severus blink a few times, but he kept a straight face. Lucy could be uncommonly mature for her age, but also startlingly childish. When Santa asked Liam what he wanted, his son honestly admitted he already got what he’d wished for. He showed him his space ship and Severus at least had the decency to react with the appropriate ‘Oh’s’ and ‘Ah’s’. It seemed Liam was a bit intimidated by Santa, though; he fell silent after a few moments. He quietly thanked Santa for the sweets he'd given him and got up from his lap.

“Now daddy, you wish for something as well,” Lucy piped up, as she pulled him forward towards Severus.

Crap, Harry thought. Maybe he should have expected this.

“I’ve already got everything I need,” he tried, but Lucy had immediately found an accomplice in Liam and they were now both pulling at his sleeves.

“I’m pretty sure this is only for mummies,” he stressed. He could feel his armpits leaking. Bad, bad, bad. Severus, in the meantime, had pulled up an amused eyebrow.

“I think your father might be a bit afraid of…” Severus was starting to say, but then Lucy and Liam had pushed their dad onto Santa’s lap. Surprisingly, there were those catcalls again. Harry tried to cling to his dignity and suppressed the urge to hide his face behind his hands. He could hear Severus’ quiet laughter behind him, but honestly, he couldn’t detect the joke.

“Very well,” Severus said, “What would  _you_ like for Christmas?”

Harry looked at his giggling kids and answered with the first thing that popped into his head: “I guess I just want for my children to be happy.”

He saw Lucy and Liam roll their eyes at him as he tried very hard not to be aware of the feel of the man behind him.

“No daddy, you have to pick something else,” Lucy said, “Doesn’t he need to pick something else, Santa?” Of course Severus easily agreed.

Harry racked his brain to come up with something that would let him off the hook.

“The new Comet 3000, then,” he said, “That’s what I would really like.”

Lucy suddenly inhaled sharply, and her eyes grew round as saucers as she called: “Oh, daddy, I know, I know! Why don’t you tell Santa about your Half-Blood Prince?”

Harry wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t feel the reaction behind his back.

“Half-Blood Prince?” Severus asked. Harry could hear the hint of confusion and surprise in his voice. He signalled to his daughter to please keep quiet, but the gates were already open, he could sense it.

“Yes,” she explained enthusiastically, even though he had told her again and again that it was a secret, “he was daddy’s professor when he was at school. Daddy’s been madly in love with him for like forever. It's so romantic!”

Harry hung his head. Merlin, could this day get any more crappy?

“Harry?” came the confused question from behind him. He did hide his face behind his hands for a brief moment now. God. As he got up, he noticed Lucy and Liam were frowning at him, looking uncertain. He turned around to face Severus, who was staring at him.

“Harry?” he asked again.

“Overactive imagination, I'm afraid,” Harry apologized on a shaky intake of breath. He tried a smile. “Don't mind them. You don't really believe that, do you? Haha, that's just ridiculous, isn't it?"

Severus closed his mouth and shook his head.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” was all he said. Harry swallowed.

“Does he know you, daddy?” Lucy asked, voice small and unsure.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” Harry said, blinking, “Come on, kids, let’s go. Santa's a busy man.”

He steered Lucy and Liam away, ignoring their questions, feeling Severus’ gaze on his back until he reached an alleyway. He didn’t wait and Apparated home, without mistakes this time.

                                                                                                                       +++


	2. More than this

December the 31st 2017, Cornwall

  
"Dust the rabbit in the flour, heat the oil and brown the rabbit all over until golden," Harry mumbled, tracing his finger over the page, "let the oignon simmer... all right, five minutes, then I add the rabbit and the beer and wait for two hours. Okay, that should be easy enough."

  
He rolled up his sleeves, pulled the oignon and the chopping board to him, then paused. He always listened to music when he was cooking. It was one of the things that never failed to make him happy. Harry went over to the living room to put on his stereo and skimmed through his cd collection. Ginny had tried to convince him a smartphone and Spotify really were the better option, but Harry preferred cd's. He couldn't really explain why. He guessed he was just old-fashioned that way. He picked a cd of Roxy Music, put it on and went back to the kitchen to start chopping. A high, thin voice that sounded positively snobbish rolled out of the boxes. The first time he'd heard Bryan Ferry sing, he'd been convinced it was a woman's voice. He imagined some shady night club singer who looked way older than her age, deep voice maimed by a life of drugs, alcohol and late nights. Then he'd heard it was actually a man, and he'd been even more intrigued by the feminine voice. He'd seen the man sing on Ginny's smartphone once or twice. He'd immediately been sure of it: Definitely gay.

  
"Someone's developed a little crush," Ginny had remarked at Christmas five years ago, while looking over his shoulder as he'd been admiring the pictures in the booklet of his brand new cd. He'd blushed at the time, giving himself away and Ginny had laughed with a fond look in her eyes. It was true: he had a weak spot for Bryan Ferry. Even now he couldn't help smiling a little as he thought about the man's lidded blue eyes, his pristine suits, the way he danced almost effeminately.

  
"I could feel at the time, there was no way of knowing," Harry sang along softly.

  
"It seems you have a thing for unobtainable, older men," Ginny had further observed, "first Severus Snape of all people, now this singer who could be your dad. Don't you want a relationship with a goodlooking, approachable guy? What's wrong with Oliver from work, for example? He's smoking hot."

  
Harry had rolled his eyes at her and retorted that she'd started to sound like Lucy. Ginny had watched him with a thoughtful look on her face, then smirked.

  
"You talked with Lucy about this?" she'd asked.

  
"... More or less... Why?"

  
She'd laughed at him and shaken her head.

"You definitely need to get out more," had been her conclusion.

  
Oh, he'd tried it once. He'd been to 'Luster', a popular night club in London, a few years ago. It just wasn't for him. Too expensive, too much sweaty people, too much bad music. He hadn't been interested in the guy who wanted to take him home, so he'd come up with a flimsy excuse to get rid of him and escaped as he pretended to go to the loo.

  
He'd thought about dating sites for a while, but it seemed too much fuzz. Chatting with someone you hardly know, trying to be charming to a complete stranger, spending all your evenings behind a computer screen: Harry got bored just thinking about it.

  
"But you work at the Muggle Department," Ginny had tried- she didn't understand, of course, "Doesn't your job require you to do research?"

  
"I'm sure the Ministry doesn't have much need for information on Muggle dating sites, Ginny." She'd just shaken her head.

  
"There is nothing more than this," Bryan Ferry sang.

  
"You say it, Bryan," Harry thought and smirked a bit bitterly, "You say it."

  
He hadn't heard from Severus since London. Harry hadn't really expected him to get in contact either. The man had obviously been shocked by the news and it wasn't as if they saw a lot of each other before that anyway. Harry's mind wandered to Lucy. The poor girl had cried her eyes out all evening when she realized what she'd done. Harry had tried his best to persuade her that it was all right, it was just a silly crush, nothing to feel bad about. He'd been a little impressed to see how distressed his daughter had become on his behalf. It took half an hour to console her, even Liam grew quiet, and when Ginny came around to pick up the kids some time later, she found Harry in the sofa with a spent-looking Lucy and Liam pressed against his sides.

  
"Well, looks like you three had a fun afternoon," she commented dryly like she was wont to do when she felt ill at ease and Harry had laughed despite himself. He'd taken Ginny aside to the kitchen and quickly summarized what had happened, not wanting to cause Lucy any more embarrassment.

  
"She's a sensitive girl, our Lucy," Ginny mused, "How are you doing?"

  
"I'm fine," he'd honestly told her, "I haven't had the chance to think about it much, actually. I feel a bit ashamed that he knows. But it was just a crush. You said it yourself: unobtainable. I've made my peace with that over the years, you know that."

  
Ginny had looked at him doubtfully and opened her mouth to say something, but Harry just shook his head.

  
"No pity," he told her and she'd nodded after a moment or two.

  
"All right, no pity."

  
They'd spend a few more minutes talking with their children until Ginny told them they had to get back for Christmas Eve. Ginny and Molly had spent the whole day in the kitchen to prepare for Christmas tomorrow: roast duck with all the trimmings, by the sound of it. Harry was invited to the Weasley feast every year, and gladly came as he had nowhere else to go, but ever since Ginny had met Samuel, he'd felt a bit out of place there. Ginny had assured him he had earned his spot at the family table no matter what happened, but still it wasn't like it used to be. Mostly he talked with Ron and Hermione or George and Katie to avoid chatting with Samuel. He guessed he was a bit jealous that the man had taken his place with such easy grace - his consideration for Harry was admirable and made Harry uncomfortable at the same time. The kids and Molly and Arthur loved him, he made Ginny happy and he had great respect for Harry's role as a father. He had no reason to dislike him, but the way he tried so very hard not to push Harry from the spotlight irked him. He knew it was small-minded of him.

  
"Come on, grumpy," he said as he picked Lucy up from the couch, "Mommy's made lasagne and grandma and grandpa are waiting."

  
Lucy clung to him and pressed her face in his neck.

  
"I'm really sorry, daddy," she spoke quietly. He rubbed her back as he tried not to let his eyes tear up.

  
"That's allright, pumpkin," he told her, "Daddy loves you. I'll see you tomorrow."

  
When they were gone, Harry ordered Chinese and spent the whole evening watching telly, as he definitely didn't want to think about what had happened with Severus. Since he didn't hear from him the following days, he was almost able to pretend it hadn't happened. When it did flash across his mind, mostly he felt shame. He wondered what the man must be thinking of him. Given their history there was no reason at all for Severus to even consider that Harry would fall in love with him.

  
The oignons were perfectly golden now, so Harry added the browned rabbit and quenched the meat with four large cans of Guinness. He turned down the heat a bit and started preparing the apple strudel. He expected Ron and Hermione with their kids at six o' clock this evening, so he still had plenty of time. When dessert was ready, he put it in the oven for half an hour, checked on his stew - well on its way to become perfect - and decided he was done for now. Time to relax. He settled in the sofa with the lyrics of the cd.

  
"No more romance, over you," Bryan sang, and again Harry could only agree. He closed his eyes and drifted away. It was the sound of the doorbell that took him out of his slumber. He blinked against the light as he opened his eyes. What time was it? Half past three? As he got up from the couch with some difficulty, the oven alarm went off. Feeling a bit disoriented, Harry pushed the oven button to stop the alarm. At the same time the doorbell rang a second time.

  
"Hold on, I'm coming," Harry grumbled as he made his way to the front door. "This better not be Severus," he thought crossly. He could see a dark shape through the textured glass of the front door and his heart sank. If it was, then he couldn't have picked a worse moment to talk. Really, on new year's eve? His hand hesitated on the door handle. He realized it would be foolish not to open the door since the person on the other side had already seen him. He took a deep breath. "Okay, let's hope for the best," Harry prayed, "Maybe he's here to declare his love for me after all."

  
Severus looked smart in a fancy, dark grey woolen coat and a thick scarf. He had scrunched-up eyes because of the icy wind and was rubbing his hands together. When he looked at him, Harry shrank despite himself. For a moment he was back in the classroom with his teacher, twenty years ago, feeling utterly inadequate. Robes or no robes, Severus was formidable when he was near. Looking back, actually it was no wonder he'd fallen for the man.

  
"Hello Harry," Severus greeted him quietly, "I'm sorry to come here unannounced. May I come in?"

  
Harry stepped aside. "Of course,' he replied courteously, allowing the man to step inside, while searching for signs that indicated whether the news would be good or bad. His heart pounded too slow or too fast, he was never really sure which of the two it was. He closed the door behind Severus and proceeded him to the living room.

  
"I won't be long," Severus warned, "I assume you have plans for this evening. I just wanted to... Oh."

  
Harry smirked despite himself. People who hadn't yet been to his house always had the same reaction when they entered the living room. He'd renovated what used to be an old farm about ten years ago. With a little magical help, he'd built an entirely new, modern second floor with rooms for the kids. But what was really special about the house was that the rear wall was made entirely out of glass, two storeys high, and looked out on nothing but fields. Severus, it seemed, could definitely appreciate the view. Harry invited Severus at the dinner table close to the kitchen, so he could keep an eye on the food.

  
"Something to drink?" Harry asked, "Gin perhaps? I have some stout too."

  
Severus shook his head as he took a seat at the table. "Nothing alcoholic for me. Maybe some tea if it's not too much trouble?"

  
Harry set about preparing the tea, glad to have something to keep his hands occupied. He lowered the volume of the music as he trudged back with two steaming cups a minute later.

  
"I believe I have to apologize," Harry started as he set the cups down. He thought it best to get it out of the way immediately. He'd rather address the elephant in the room at once than circle around it for half an hour. Severus held up a hand.

  
"Don't apologize, Harry," he said, "I should say sorry for not visiting sooner. I needed time to digest your revelation. But it is clear to me we need to talk."

  
"Do we?" Harry asked quietly.

  
"Despite what you may think of me," Severus frowned, "I try to be a decent human being. I am not the kind of man to leave you wondering."

  
"I'm not under any delusions, Sever... I mean, sir."

  
Severus smiled a little.

  
"I thought we'd established that you can call me Severus a few years ago."

  
Harry traced the rim of his mug with his finger and replied: "I guess I forgot about that. It's been a while since we've spoken to each other."

  
Severus nodded and leaned back in the chair, ran a quick hand through his hair.

  
"What I am trying to tell you," he resumed, inhaling sharply, "and there is no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it, is that I'm unfortunately not attracted to men."

  
Harry nodded and rubbed a spot on the table.

  
"I'm sorry."

  
"It's nothing I didn't know already, Severus," he sighed, "Don't worry yourself."

  
"Well, I do," he answered.

  
Harry could feel Severus' compassionate gaze and he shrank in on himself, bitterness stealing in against his will. He'd never been good at dealing with pity.

  
"Your daughter came to see me at the shop," Severus continued. At that, Harry's head snapped up.

  
"What?"

  
"She was accompanied by Remus Lupin's son," Severus thought to assuage his fears, "He's about nineteen now, I believe? By all accounts, I should think he's old and mature enough to take her safely through Side-Along Apparition and to keep an eye on her."

  
Harry sat heavily back in his chair and crossed his arms. So now Teddy was in on the secret as well, Harry thought, not without some irritation.

  
"Yes, I wouldn't be happy about it either if I were in your shoes," Severus conceded, "but perhaps you shouldn't be too harsh on her."

  
Harry looked away.

  
"What did she say?" he asked grudgingly, taking a sip of his tea. Severus looked at his cup and took a sip as well.

  
"She asked me, if I couldn't be the prince on the black unicorn, then perhaps I could at least be your friend."

  
Harry chuckled and shook his head. That did indeed sound like something Lucy would say.

  
"I promised her I would try," Severus said, then took a careful sip of tea again.

  
Harry pretended to blow on his cup.

  
"You're saying you would be my friend? You do know how strange that sounds, coming from you, don't you?"

  
Severus nodded and Harry couldn't help it, he chuckled again.

  
"It's probably a very bad idea, Severus," he smiled, "Us spending time together." At least Severus didn't have to ask why. He just shrugged as if to say, "Perhaps."

  
"Why now, after all these years?" Harry wanted to know.

  
Severus looked at him sharply and retorted: "I think it's high time I start compensating for everything I've put you through in the past."

  
Harry'd figured it would be something like that.

  
"You pity me, then," he summarized, "I'm sorry to say so, but I don't think that counts as a solid base for friendship."

  
"I pity me," Severus answered, "There's a difference."

  
"What do you mean?"

  
"I _mean_ ," Severus explained, voice ringing with an odd sincerity, "that I can't fathom how you could fall in love with me after the way I belittled you, and... and hurt you, all those years. I know we established a few years ago that I had to act a certain way around you during the war, and somehow, you even understood that. But for you to love me, after everything, that just seems like a grotesque cosmic mistake to me. For you to have to suffer further, again on my account , because I don't happen to be gay... I realized I needed to do something, and Harry, friendship is the only thing I can offer."

  
"It's not your fault that I fell in love," Harry replied, "You shouldn't feel obligated..."

  
"I don't," Severus pressed, "But you deserve it."

  
Harry chuckled and rubbed his forehead.

  
"You know, this is not what I had in mind when I thought about you trying to convince me to get to know each other," he laughed, "But all right, if you want to befriend someone who's pining after you, that's your..."

  
Harry didn't finish his sentence. It dawned on him there was a strange smell in the house. He realized it had been there for a while already, but it only now registered with him. Severus noticed it too, he saw.

  
"Oh fuck," he whispered, horrified, as he suddenly understood, "Oh _fuck_!"

  
He bolted towards the kitchen and wrenched open the oven. A thick cloud of hot, black smoke made him pull back, and as he coughed and waved his hand, he could feel disappointment settling in.

  
"Well, so much for dessert," he announced. He gathered a plate and a fork to check if anything was worth saving, but he soon saw it was a lost cause. Ten pieces of blackened and burnt apple strudel lay smoking on the plate. He unthinkingly waved his wand to open a window, while he desolately stared at the bits of charcoal. Severus had joined him in the kitchen, but was polite enough not to say anything.

  
"I guess I forgot to turn off the oven," Harry explained, "I turned off the oven alarm, but then I must have forgotten..."

  
He trailed off, looking up to see Severus trying to wrestle down a smirk.

"Mh-mmh," he answered, lips pinched tight.

"Oh, stop laughing, you," Harry chastized, trying to reign in a chuckle of his own, "Like you never burnt dinner."

  
"As a matter of fact, I haven't," Severus answered. He tilted his head and seemed to be contemplating something.

  
"Who's coming to dinner tonight?" he asked.

Harry shrugged: "Just Ron and Hermione and their kids."

Severus turned around towards the chopping board on the work table.

"How many apples have you got left?"

"About four or five," Harry sighed, "but Severus, you really don't have to..."

"Have you got eggs and flour?"

"Yes, but,..."

"Sugar?"

"Really, Severus..."

"Sugar?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes," he smiled.

Severus checked the kitchen clock.

"We've got two hours left to make an apple cake," he said matter-of-factly, "Plenty of time. Do you want my help or not?"

  
Harry chuckled and shook his head, as he walked over to the fridge to take out the ingredients Severus had asked for. They set to work in good-natured silence. After a while Harry started to talk. He didn't know why, but one word led to the next and before he knew it there was no stopping it. Harry admitted his crush had started at the Final Battle, with the memories he'd seen in the pensieve. It had shocked him how many times Severus had saved his sorry arse and he'd felt a bone-deep relief that the man had been on their side all the time. It had helped him go out there, into the Forbidden Forest, to face Voldemort, because if Severus could do it, he could as well. He'd wanted to go back to the Shrieking Shack first to try and save Severus, but had realized time was of the essence. So he hadn't saved Severus, and for that he still felt guilty. When he learned it was McGonagall with a little help from Slughorn that had pulled Severus through, he'd only been very glad at first. The turning point came when he saw Severus again for the first time, as he entered the Great Hall, aided by crutches- he'd been paralyzed by the venom of the snake bite after all. Harry could clearly recall he hadn't felt pity, not one bit, only an overwhelming feeling of love. He'd been surprised by it, afraid of it even, but it hadn't gone away. This man had done everything for him and from one moment to the next, Severus was Harry's hero. Then Severus had initiated a long, hard talk, in which most of the misunderstandings between them were thrown on the table and investigated, and they realized they had both behaved like children. Severus apologized, and Harry fell in love a bit deeper. The feeling had just stayed with him, Harry concluded, even after he left school. Severus listened to him for more than an hour. Again proof, Harry thought, that his love for the man was well-founded.

  
When Harry asked, Severus turned down his offer to stay for dinner. He had other plans that night (a visit with his aunt, he'd explained, as he'd apparently felt Harry's silent question) and he would feel out of place with Ron and Hermione anyway. The cake, though, was perfect and finished well before the party would start. So was the rabbit stew. Harry still had an hour to shower and get ready.

  
"I'm glad you visited," he told Severus in the doorway, feeling oddly elated despite the fact he'd been turned down, "And not just because you saved dessert."

  
Severus hesitated a moment, but then leaned forward to give Harry an awkward hug and a pat on the back.

  
"Friday evening at 'The Hog's head', then?" he asked.

  
"It's a date," Harry smiled, then shook his head, "I mean, it's not a date, of course. I know that. It's to toast to the New Year, as friends. I'll be happy to do that with you."

  
"Me too," Severus told him, and he sounded sincere. Severus wished him luck with dinner, and then, with a slight nod, he was gone. Harry went back inside. He looked around the room for a second, inhaled, then exhaled. He was ready for tonight, he realized. To be honest, he felt ready for anything, and that was a really great feeling to be experiencing again.

+++


	3. Heaven for small feet

January the 3th 2018

As agreed, Harry did  _not_ go on a date with Severus that Friday. The Hog's Head was a low-profile kind of place, so nobody paid them any mind as they entered. They shrugged quietly out of their coats and when the bartender popped up at their table, they ordered two shots of Firewhiskey to toast to the new year.

"To friendship," Harry tried light-heartedly as he lifted his glass. He cringed a bit at the doubtful look Severus gave him for a second. All right, perhaps that was the wrong thing to say when friendship was obviously not what he really wanted, but what else was there to toast to?

"Or erm...to...," Harry began again, hesitatingly.

"To friendship, indeed," Severus smiled and raised his glass to him.

They drank together and Harry cursed his pink cheeks. Severus luckily didn't seem to notice, he was just staring at his drink, lips quirked up a little as he shook his head. Harry could guess what he was thinking.

"So... hm," Harry coughed awkwardly, as he trailed his finger over the rim of his glass, "I've never had the chance to ask, but... what's with Holland and Barrett?"

It was just something he said to break the silence, but it seemed to do the trick. Severus smiled and started talking. The job had indeed been part of a 'keeping low profile'- plan, exactly as Harry had thought. Severus told him he'd known even before the war was over he'd only return to Hogwarts to teach until he found something else. Merlin knew he'd served enough hours in front of the classroom for a lifetime. When the job at Holland and Barrett presented itself in all of its simplicity, Severus hadn't hesitated. The fact that he didn't have to deal with a single wizard anymore only counted as a bonus. He was fed up, he admitted, and the Muggle world seemed like a welcome refuge. It was a good enough life, he told Harry, for a man like him. An easy job, nice colleagues and a small but comfortable rental apartment on the outskirts of London. He had a small herbal garden on his balcony and the rent was reasonable. No, Severus Snape didn't look like a man who regretted selling his house on Spinner's End and turning his back on the wizarding world one bit.

Harry was happy for him, he really was. And he was glad with the way things had turned out for the two of them after that awkward confession a few weeks ago. Severus could have reacted a lot worse, or not at all. But every now and then Harry's gaze got caught on something small, like Severus taking a sip from his glass and then sort of smacking his lips, and he had to remind himself they were here as friends, that he should feel grateful for that and then he couldn't help himself, he had to avert his gaze. He realized that if he wanted Severus in his life, and he did, then he would just have to suck it up. There was no way around it. But all he could think throughout the evening was a subdued _Please, I want you._

Severus had been gentleman enough not to put the finger on the sore spot, but when they walked back to the Apparition point, it seemed he couldn't hold back.

"Is this doing you any good, Harry?" he asked quietly.

Harry pretended he hadn't understood the question so he'd have the chance to swallow the lump in his throat.

"I'm causing you pain," Severus stated.

Harry inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth. "You're right," he admitted.

He noticed Severus looking at his shoes while they walked, wearing a guilty look on his face.

"Is it better to...?"

"No," Harry answered immediately. He felt Severus' questioning eyes on him.

"I don't want to talk about it," he told him, as gently as he could, "My problem, not yours. Let me deal with this."

Severus smiled and looked at him with respect in his eyes.

"If you're sure..."

And Harry had been sure.

Throughout the months that followed they worked on their friendship, and the first thing Harry gradually taught himself was to keep his eyes in check. Severus had asked him once which of his gestures Harry thought 'provocative', so he could learn to avoid them. First Harry had laughed at him, loudly, but then he'd realized Severus was only trying to be helpful. So he'd reluctantly spilled the beans about what exactly turned him on. Since then Severus didn't lick his lips in Harry's presence anymore, didn't run his hand through his hair and refrained from rubbing his nose. Harry had to explain that last one, since Severus hadn't made the connection that his nose brought to mind images of another part of his anatomy.

"Really?" Severus had shaken his head, eyebrows pulled together in a nonplussed frown.

"Really," Harry confirmed, "And by the way, that smirk counts as provocative too."

It sounded stupid, but it actually helped, if only a little.

When the moment came, about a year later, that Severus with some trepidation admitted to him that he'd met someone, Harry thought he took the news rather well. He was disappointed of course, but he'd always known Severus wouldn't stay alone. The fact that the relationship had already been going on for three months, and their friendship hadn't suffered because of it, counted as a reassurance for Harry.

The first time he'd met Rachida, he'd had mixed feelings. The woman was as beautiful as they come with dark brown, fiery curls, but she seemed a little aloof around people she didn't know. She appeared strict, decisive, capable in short and perhaps, to some people, a bit unapproachable. A female version of Severus actually, Harry realized. He noticed, though, how her eyes warmed every time her gaze fell on her lover. And Harry was jealous, because he had to admit she was perfect for Severus.

Rachida had apparently been Severus' boss at the shop. The moment she'd told Severus she was going to quit her job to work somewhere else, Severus hadn't hesitated and made his move. Turned out they'd been dancing around each other for more than a year already. It took Harry longer than it should to understand why Severus had never told him about it. He was now not only jealous of Rachida, but miffed with Severus as well, and the worst thing was, he didn't have any right to.

"Are you okay?" Severus had asked him, later. He'd shrugged.

"Does she know about me?" Harry had asked in return.

Severus had nodded: "I'm afraid your face was an open book, Harry. I wasn't going to deny what she'd already guessed."

"Great," Harry had muttered, then tagged on, making an effort to be polite, "I'm fine, Severus. Congratulations on your new job."

Severus had taken over Rachida's job at Holland and Barrett and was now officially the shop manager. Harry was happy for him, but, for his own sake, decided it was time to take some distance from Severus. Coincidentally, it was around that time that Harry was offered the new post of Minister of Muggle Affairs and he went from 'just busy' to 'swamped with work'. Kingsley had made some changes in the way the Ministry for Magic communicated with the Muggle Ministry – the time when an unannounced visit to the Muggle Prime Minister only once a year was acceptable was long gone. Kingsley had helped create the Department for Muggle Relations, where Harry worked. His decision to call to life the position of Minister of Muggle Affairs had been greeted with mockery and scepticism by some at first, but when it became clear Harry would be taking up the post, laughter had slowly died down. Harry took his job very seriously: he re-read reports of important meetings to decide whether it contained information the Muggle Prime Minister needed to know, wrote countless reports himself, lead fiery debates on for example the free use of memory charms on Muggles, filed more reports, sat in on meetings of the Muggle Parliament, took various phone or floo calls,…

By the time Harry got an assistant to help him take care of his paperwork, the damage was already done: He'd seen Severus only once or twice the last nine months, and Harry decided it was probably better that way. He'd had Severus' friendship for more than a year, but the man had to move on with his life. _And_ , Harry thought as he rubbed his eyes and pulled a stack of heavy folders towards him across his desk, _perhaps so should I._

 +++

Five years later, January the 5th 2023, London

It had been a particularly cold week. The whole country was suffering because of the fierce, icy winds that slapped you in the face and even howled through cracks in the walls. Harry sincerely regretted his decision of leaving the comfort of his home as the frost bit him in the cheeks. Even the short distance he had to walk from the point where he’d Apparated to his destination was torture. He couldn’t even properly blame Ginny for sending him here, since he could have chosen any other day to make the trip. Too late to turn back, though. He came this far anyway, it was better to see it through. Luckily he reached the shop he was looking for two minutes later. He should have checked the website for the exact address, of course, then he could have Apparated right in front of the door. The old fashioned, wooden sign of the store read 'Baker's', and Harry spared a fleeting thought for the fact that that was a funny name for a shop were shoes were sold, but then the cold chased him inside.

It wasn't a very modern shop, like the ones you could find at Harrods or in any other shopping center. Harry took in the homely, papered walls that were lined with sturdy, dark brown wooden shelves, the fancy parquet floor. Strategically placed were elegant, brown leather settees where customers could sit down to try on shoes, or even to drink coffee. At the back of the small shop was the cash desk: a heavy, antique-looking, oaken secretary. Harry even heard soft piano music coming from one of the boxes somewhere. Everything in the shop seemed to breathe 'Watch out, expensive'.

There weren't any other customers, and the man behind the counter, who had greeted him politely the moment he came in, was looking at him expectantly. Harry pretended to look at the shelves for a moment, then decided this whole ordeal would be resolved far quicker if he asked for the man's help. He was supposed to be an expert after all.

"I was told this was the place to go for... how did she phrase it again... quality shoes for modern gentlemen?" Harry asked. The shop assistant, a blonde man in his mid-twenties, chuckled for a moment.

"You've come to the right place, sir," he confirmed, "Have you already got an idea of what you're looking for?"

Harry gazed down at his shoes for a moment, then shook his head and said, smiling: "Well, my ex-wife told me it's definitely time to lose the All Stars now I'm in my forties, so I’m pretty sure any shoe here counts as a step up."

The man laughed again, then, over the counter, took a look at the shoes Harry was wearing and deadpanned: "A wise decision. Do you care for leather shoes then?"

Harry shrugged and said: "Haven't got a clue. Why don't you try and sell them to me?"

The shop assistant- the name tag told Harry his name was Emmett Baker- strode over to a nearby shelf and retrieved a pair of decent, brown leather shoes.

"What is your shoe size, sir?" he asked.

"Erm, eight, I think," Harry said. To be honest, he wasn't really sure. He didn't buy shoes a lot, and his size tended to vary from shop to shop.

"William, fetch me an eight of this pair," Emmett called to a man whom Harry only then took notice of. Apparently the man had been taking stock in the storage room, as he was busy writing something down on a notepad when he made his appearance behind the counter. He was visibly older than Emmett, maybe halfway his forties- actually, about my age then, Harry realised- but still he seemed to be taking orders from the younger man.

 _That's the world turned upside down,_ Harry thought, as he made his way to one of the couches and sat down to take off his shoes.

"Mmh, I think the gentleman might be better served with a seven, sir," the man named William politely contradicted his boss. Harry looked up and noticed the man was observing his feet. He had a nice, neatly trimmed ginger beard, Harry acknowledged. Seemed to be a bit of a stiff upper lip though, with his fancy, pinstriped gilet.

"Are you implying I have small feet?" Harry asked, amused.

"I'm not suggesting anything, sir," William answered carefully neutral. Harry chuckled.

"An eight, William," the boss emphasized, "If you would be so kind."

William apparently was a man who knew how to pick his battles: he turned on his heel without a word. Harry wondered if the man would prove to be right. He'd always thought his feet were average, not small.

"Don't mind him," Emmett said as he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Harry wasn't sure William was even out of earshot. "He's been working here for so long he tends to get a bit pedantic."

"Mm-mmh," Harry grunted non-commitally, while he thought that comment was unprofessional and completely uncalled for. He pretended to look around while he waited for William to come back with the shoes. When he did, Harry got up to take them from him.

He wasn't entirely sure what happened then, except something did. It hit him from one moment to the next. As Emmett was explaining away about the many advantages of quality calfskin, Harry let his gaze wander towards William. Their eyes met and Harry noticed a heavy warmth spreading from his neck over his shoulders to his arms, like when you were about to get the flu. He realised not without some confusion he was blushing and quickly looked away. He focused on the shoes the man was holding, but noticed after a few seconds his gaze had wandered to William's chest. The white button-down shirt and marine coloured gilet both suggested a sturdy, masculine upper body. The top button of the shirt was undone and revealed the beginnings of a thatch of ginger chest hair that matched the colour of his beard. Harry got stuck on William's lower lip then, until he noticed one corner of the man's mouth curl up. He lifted his gaze, only to realize William was regarding him with an amused look, one eyebrow lifted in question. Harry flushed again and averted his eyes. Emmett, in the meantime, was as oblivious as a child that was watching telly; he just continued prattling on about the shoes.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said awkwardly, to lift the tension and to stop Emmett talking. He took the shoes, feeling stupidly giddy and bold as he made sure his fingers brushed William's, and sat down to try on the shoes. As he put them on, he realized they were almost identical to the ones Samuel usually wore. They were also a size too large. Harry got up anyway to examine them in the long mirror in the middle of the room.

"What do you think?" Emmett asked, "Are they comfortable?"

"Mmh," Harry evasively hummed, turning this way and that in front of the mirror to buy himself some time. How could he say he didn't like them one bit? Luckily Emmett got an incoming call just then, and as he excused himself and picked up his phone, Harry shot a helpless look at William.

"Shall I get you size seven?" the man innocently asked. His eyes, though, were gleaming.

"God," Harry quietly chuckled, "I just realized these are the same shoes my ex-wife's new partner wears. There is no way I'm buying them."

William smirked and was about to reply as Emmett's voice cut in.

"Really? Now?" he asked in an odd, urgent tone that drew Harry and William's attention.

Emmett made a few confirmative noises, then abruptly hung up with "All right, I'm coming."

He stared at his phone for a second before he looked up at William with a helpless look.

"Her water broke," he just said. There was a stunned silence for a few seconds, then William asked: "Just now?"

"Now."

It seemed like all Emmett's confidence had gone the moment he'd hung up the phone. He was simply standing there uncertainly, not making any move to leave. Harry and William reacted at the same time.

"Well then, you should go," William urged, just as Harry was starting to say something similar.

"Well, I'm not sure..." Emmett trailed off indecisively. Harry just shook his head in disbelief. Really, he thought, what a dweep.

"I will manage," William assured him, "Your place is with your wife right now."

"You're right," Emmett nodded and took a deep breath, "Ok then. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," William and Harry mumbled together. A moment later Emmett had left the shop.

"What a coincidence," Harry mused as he stood staring at the door.

"Pardon me?" William's voice came from behind him. Harry turned around. It dawned on him William was standing much closer. The warmth he'd been feeling the whole time was going for his throat now and he averted his gaze.

"Lucky break," Harry said as he looked at a spot on the ground, "The guy was trying to sell me shoes I didn't like anyway."

William laughed out loud, an infectious sound.

"Well, rest assured  _I_ know what you want," he retorted unambiguously. Harry blushed, again.

William pointed at the shoes Harry was wearing.

"These are not your style," he claimed, "I've got something more suited for you, if you like."

Harry just shook his head and smiled: "Yes... I mean, yes, I came here for shoes after all."

"Just a moment," William graced him with a smile of his own, "I'll be right back. You can sit down already."

William was gone for less than fifteen seconds. Harry listened to the light, clicking sound the man's footsteps made on the parquet when he returned. He smiled.

"Perhaps you'll like these," the man told Harry, as he opened the box and took out a pair of men's boots, "They're made of light brown suede." William sank to his knees in front of Harry and began to loosen the laces of the leather shoes Harry was still wearing.

"I can do that," Harry mumbled quietly, but the next moment his shoes had already been taken off. He told his stomach to stop with the summersaults, the guy was just being professional. Then, after a few seconds in which William put down the shoes, he took Harry's left foot in his palm and slowly ran his fingers over the instep. Harry clearly felt it through his thick socks. His mouth fell open ever so slightly, his breath tumbled out and without making a sound, he closed his mouth again.

"You're stroking my feet," he thought to point out.

Mh-mmh," William hummed, "the better to prepare them."

"Oh, so that's what you're doing?"

"Ssh," he susurrated, smiling, then added more pressure to his strokes. He started rubbing circles into the underside of his foot with both thumbs and Harry closed his eyes.

"You do this for all your clients?" he grinned.

"You know the answer to that," William replied as he massaged a particularly rigid tendon.

"You're erm... thorough," Harry mumbled. He opened his eyes to enjoy the view. William was smiling at him, looking rather pleased with himself. He put Harry's left foot on his knee and gently pushed the boot on.

"Doesn't it feel good," the man asked, his lips quirked up slightly, "to just slide inside?"

Harry leaned back on his elbows and laughed out loud. _Talk about innuendo_ , Harry thought, _this guy's really laying it on thick._

"Too much?" William smiled as Harry couldn't seem to stop laughing.

"Fuck," Harry chuckled, "There's something really intense about you, you know that? And to think you're actually not my type."

William put his hands on either side of Harry's thighs.

"What exactly, then, is your type?"

Harry thought it best not to mention older, unobtainable men. He just shook his head.

'I don't usually flirt with strangers like this."

The man smiled and sat back on his haunches.

"We're not strangers," he countered, "You know I'm William. And your name is...?"

"Harry."

"Harry," William repeated, then chuckled and shook his head, "Really?"

"Erm," Harry hesitated, "Really. Why?"

"Harry and William," the man laughed, "Like the princes?"

"Oh. Yeah," Harry smiled, then tagged on, "But we're not brothers."

William put on the other boot.

"We're not brothers," he agreed, smiling easily. How Harry could have thought him stoical just a few minutes ago, he didn't know.

"My shift is done in an hour. Perhaps you want to grab something to eat?" William proposed offhandedly.

"Yeah, that'd be good," Harry replied, coughing to get rid of the frog is his throat.

Just then the bell sounded as a new customer entered the shop, and William got up to put some distance between them. The woman who had come in with her two teenage sons clearly wanted to look around first, so Harry took his new shoes to the cash desk.

"How much?" Harry asked, taking out his wallet. William seemed to hesitate and Harry wondered why.

"You know what," William said, "I'm going to write you down a website where you can order these shoes at a much cheaper price."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

William bit his lip and shot a look at the woman behind Harry. She was just perusing the shelves, Harry observed. William took his notebook and pencil and started scribbling something down. Harry noticed he stuck out his tongue in concentration while writing. He wondered at the blush on the man's cheeks. When William was finished he turned the notebook around and Harry read: " _Phew, all right, here goes: I very much want you to fuck me but it wouldn't sit right with me to take your money. So please be a good boy and go to this website."_

"Okay," Harry mumbled, while he stared at the note. The flash of arousal that jolted through him made him nervous. He chuckled awkwardly, rubbed his neck and said, trying to make it sound like he was talking about work or something: "All right, well... straightforward. But... hm... I think we can arrange that."

William bit his lip again. He was staring at Harry unabashedly now. Harry saw the woman was starting to notice.

"There's a Thai restaurant a little further down the street, to the right," William spoke quietly, "Six o' clock?"

Harry had to admit to himself he was rather looking forward to it. He agreed easily and thanked William for the website address. Since there was no more reason to linger, Harry left.

+++

It had all gone swimmingly. They had met at the restaurant at six, laughed, drank some wine and ate. Harry told William about his kids. He thought it best to get that information on the table from the start. William turned out to have a twenty-two-year-old daughter of his own. Harry had teased him a bit about his age (he was forty-six). Then William had told him he lived only two blocks further and he'd asked if Harry fancied a nightcap. Harry did, so they'd gone to William's flat where they'd slowly undressed each other and had absolutely brilliant sex. Harry hadn't thought it possible, but he just went head-over-heels after that.

The second date was just as great, they'd had sex again, and again it was perfect. On the third date William asked Harry some questions about his life- perfectly normal questions for people who were beginning to know each other, like _what job do you do_ and _what did you study in school._ Harry knew he wouldn't be able to answer without getting tangled up in half-lies and half-truths. So on the fourth date they were walking in a park and when William told him about how he'd always wanted to see the Victoria falls, Harry had hesitated only a moment.

"If I show you something, will you promise to first listen to what I have to tell you?" he asked.

William shook his head, smiling. "I knew there was something," he chided jokingly," All right, out with it."

Harry had grasped William's arm, counted down from three and took him on Side-Along Apparition. After the initial shock, Harry explained that he was a wizard, that there was a world aside from the world he knew, where witches and wizards lived. He didn't go into detail about the war, that was for another time, but he patiently answered all of William's questions. Harry realized this was huge, him coming out after only a few dates, so it must mean he really wanted to commit himself. William had taken it rather well, and when he'd noticed after a few minutes they were standing beside a river, he'd deadpanned: "Well, you may be a wizard, and even a minister, but your geography sucks. These are not the Victoria falls."

Harry had laughed and admitted he'd wanted to play safe, what with all the big revelations, but if William still wanted, he'd take him there. It was the first time Harry had seen the waterfall as well, and they'd spent a good deal of time in each other's arms, taking in the majestic view on a nearby rock. And that was that.

Before Harry knew it they'd been together for six months. Ginny had been flummoxed as well, but for a different reason.

"You're going to bring  _another_ ginger into our family?" she'd called out, "Really, Harry, what were you thinking?"

Well, at least he’s not old and unobtainable,” Harry had smiled and Ginny had poked him in the ribs. When she first met William, though, even Ginny had to admit Harry might be on to something this time.

After eight months William moved in with Harry. It had been for practical reasons, since they were both tired of traveling back and forth between their respective houses. But it turned out to work well and slowly they became the family Lucy had always envisioned. Without the unicorn farm then, but Lucy soon found out William had other perks: He was rather easily impressed by her magic, even for a Muggle. For example, he was over the moon by the butterflies she magicked out of thin air and was simply ecstatic when Lucy secretly took him along on his first broom ride. Harry had been less happy when he found out and had given them both a firm scolding. Lucy had barely learned to fly, it wasn’t safe to be taking passengers along, even when they’d only flown eight feet high. The laws regarding underage magic were less severe than they used to be thanks to Kingsley, but there were still sanctions, Harry had warned them both. William and Lucy had been properly abashed, but Harry made a mental note to keep his eyes and ears open lest they snuck behind his back again.

Liam had also found a kindred spirit in William, since it turned out they shared a passion for Star Wars. Harry had rolled his eyes at the news, but to be honest he was just glad his son had found someone else he could drag to the movies every time there was a new release.

As for Harry, he gained a new inner calm with William at his side. Living together was actually easier than either of them could have imagined. William cooked and did the laundry, Harry cleaned and took care of the groceries. It was nice to have someone listen to him rant about work every evening, and Harry found he liked the feeling of being indignant on William's behalf about his colleague, Emmett. It created a sense of togetherness that Harry loved huddling in.

Eventually Harry had to tell William about the war. There was simply no way he would be able to keep a secret of that magnitude from him. William had been quiet as Harry talked, only interrupting once or twice to ask a question. When morning came, they'd both been exhausted. William had rubbed his face and said: “Wow. I don't know what to tell you. I don’t think I’ll ever see you in the same light again. You’re a bloody hero.”

Harry had nodded, too tired to contradict him.

William wanted to see the places where Harry spent his time growing up. Harry couldn't say he blamed him, he would be curious too if he were in Willam's place.

"Maybe we can go on a little vacation," William proposed, "God knows you need it. You've been working so hard, you've got too much on your mind. I mean, last week you even forgot it was your turn to take the kids. We could go to that school you went to, or somewhere else, just for a few days. After that we can go anywhere you want."

Harry had agreed, but made a few restrictions. He didn't feel like revisiting Privet Drive and Godric's Hollow, or even the Forest of Dean. But he gladly took William along for a trip to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. They were invited by Minerva McGonagall for tea and they stopped by Hagrid's hut to have a slice of treacle tart. They stayed in Hogsmeade for three days and Harry showed William all the shops: Flourish and Blotts, Fortescues', Gringotts, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Honeydukes,…

For the rest of their vacation they went to the Seychelles, where Harry learned to relax for the first time in his life. William, on the other hand, had grown a bit quiet.

"I don't know, Harry," William explained when he asked about it, "I think I'm just a little overwhelmed, that's all. Hearing people talk about you, seeing them stare at you, at us, across the street. It made me realize... You're not just some wizard. I think I'm beginning to see just how important you were, for all those people. It's... Well, it's a lot to take in, and... I guess I don't really understand how you could end up with _me_ , when it's clear as day you could have anyone."

Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes, but he did, because he knew it would only hurt William. It was the story of his life, though: trying to explain to others he wasn't that special, other people just talked about him that way. William's awkwardness luckily only lasted a day or so, and Harry was glad for it. He knew it was haughty of him, but he didn't need another fan.

They went hiking and surfing, and spent time on the beach and after two weeks they went home with about a thousand pictures. Harry had to admit the trip had done him well after months and months without a holiday, but he was also glad to fall back in his usual daily rhythm.

Things went smoothly for Harry and William. Harry did think about Severus once in a while, but he had gotten to the point where he could admit to being happy without him.

When Rachida showed up on their doorstep about two months after their vacation, Harry didn't yet know her visit would indirectly be the first step in his path to a break-up with William. He just stared at the woman. He'd seen her once or twice in the last few months, always accompanied by Severus, and didn't have the impression she harboured any warm feelings for him. But now she had sought him out, and she was looking positively lost. Her eyes were red, her hair was tied back in a sloppy tail and she looked like she could use at least a few nights sleep.

"Harry," she spoke quietly. Her voice was hoarse. She coughed.

"I'm sorry to show up here. I didn't know where else to go. You're the only friend of Severus I know."

Harry nodded, curiously awaiting what this was about.

"Can I come in?" she asked, her head bowed.

Harry hesitated, then stepped aside.

"Of course," he said, "come in. What's wrong?"

She shook her head, rubbed her nose and sighed. Her absentminded gaze seemed to be caught for a moment by something that was happening a little further down the street.

"I don't know why I came here, " she whispered, "I don't even know if I should be telling you this."

She took a deep breath and blurted out: "It's Severus. I think he doesn't love me anymore."

+++


	4. A new year's resolution

September the 15th 2024

"What happened?" Harry casually asked as he put two Martinis on the coffee table, "I'm sorry to say so, but you don't look too well. Did you two have a fight?"

Rachida picked up her tumbler and nursed it for a few seconds, shoulders hunched, before she muttered something Harry couldn't hear and took two, three large gulps of her drink. Harry belatedly remembered Muggle Muslims usually don't drink alcohol and he had a strange, sudden urge to jump up and stop her. She musn't be a very practising Muslim, Harry guessed, or she couldn't have been together with Severus anyway, who had little patience for religion in general. He nevertheless felt a bit guilty for having thoughtlessly served her liquor.

Rachida was looking at him with a calculating look in her eyes, Harry noticed. He felt a bit wary because of it.

"You've known Severus for how long now, Harry?" she asked, putting her glass back on the table while she sat back, "Twenty, thirty years?"

"About thirty-five years, I guess," Harry calculated, then frowned, "Why?"

"And would you say you know him very well?"

That was a strange question. Harry instinctually realised he needed to be on his guard. Such questions usually didn't come from nowhere. He'd better ask for clarification.

"I guess I know him a little bit," Harry carefully answered, "But Severus has always been a bit of an enigma. Why do you ask?"

Rachida's lips were pinched tight and it was clear to Harry she was searching his face for something, answers maybe. But until the reason of her visit became clear, Harry was determined not to give her any.

Rachida took a deep breath and her voice sounded shaky as she said: "I know there are things he isn't telling me. That was all right with me at first, it really was. I knew he was a closed man and he needed time to open up. I was prepared to give him that time, because I figured maybe something bad had happened in his past. But it's been almost eight years we've been together now and it still feels like I barely know him. Yesterday I confronted him about it and he got really mad. I've never seen him like that before. It made me realize there really must be something wrong... something horribly big..."

"Wow, wait a minute," Harry interrupted, feeling sweat break out on his brow and trying to feel his way forward without making a major mistake. He knew well enough he shouldn't tell her about Severus' Death Eater days in case she didn't know that yet, but it was possible he would let something slip inadvertently. He'd better verify first.

"What exactly do you think you don't know?" he asked her.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air, "There's very little I know! He told me his parents died a long time ago. He was a chemistry teacher at some boarding school before he moved to London. That's it!"

Harry blinked.

"Chemistry?" he repeated, subdued. Rachida's eyes flashed as she understood.

"Don't tell me he lied about that too!"

Harry was speechless. He tried to think of something to say, but his brain felt slow. Severus hadn't told her anything? How the hell did he do that?

"Do you know how that feels like?" Rachida just shook her head as if she wanted to get rid of the tears that had welled up in her eyes, "It feels like I'm some fling he only just met yesterday, that's how. Why doesn't he trust me?"

Harry awkwardly picked up his glass and fiddled with it.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, "Have you tried talking to Severus about it?"

"Yes! Only yesterday, I told you!"

"All right, but before that?"

"Harry, I've tried everything," Rachida sounded desperate, "I've tried asking him outright, I've tried telling him about my life to lure him out, I've tried guessing games, … He only keeps dodging every question I ask about his past. I'm just... so tired."

Harry's gaze darted to the kitchen for a moment, where William was quietly peeling vegetables, trying to blend into the background.

"I can imagine," he muttered inadequately, running a finger across his glass. He could feel Rachida's eyes burning.

"So I assume there really is something, isn't it?" she asked him, "I haven't been imagining it?"

Harry just nodded. Rachida picked her glass back up and she held it in her hand without even glancing at it.

"And you think it's something he should have told me?"

He hesitated. It was Severus' life and Severus' choices, Harry thought, but really, the man was unbelievable. He nodded again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rachida throw back the rest of her drink. It was quiet for a few seconds, and Harry could just feel the anger roll off of her.

"You know him," Rachida began again.

"It's not my place to tell you," Harry replied immediately.

Rachida sat back in the sofa. She nodded in understanding, but Harry could see the resigned look on her face. He thought he knew what that look meant. He believed it meant she'd made her decision and if he guessed correctly, that was bad news for Severus. Harry sighed and shook his head. He couldn't believe he was being dragged into this. He cursed Severus for the first time in years.

"It's not my place," he repeated, "but I guess I'll... I could have a word with him."

She didn't answer immediately, so Harry hesitantly asked: "Or is it too late already?"

Rachida sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"I don't know," she spoke quietly, "I mean, if he doesn't trust me, then what is the point of us being together?"

Harry nodded. He imagined he would be pissed too.

"Then again," he countered, "there are things in Severus' past I'm sure he would only reluctantly share. He probably thought you wouldn't want to be with him anymore."

"But that's my decision to make," she heatedly replied, then, leaning forward, she sighed, "It's not fair he's been taking that choice away from me. After eight years I think I deserve to know who I'm in a relationship with!"

Harry skratched his ear. She was right, of course. Bloody stupid Severus.

"It all depends on how much you want to know who he was. Severus from the past has got little to do with Severus who he is now. So, does it matter?"

"That's bullshit, and you know it," she replied, "they're one and the same, no matter how much he changed. It feels like he's only giving me half of him, and Harry, I can't be with half a person. Well... actually I can, I endured it for almost eight years. But enough is enough. It's about basic respect."

Harry didn't know what else to say. He was beyond irritated that Severus had put him in a position where he had to argue on his behalf to the woman he still felt a little jealous of. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking about what he should say to Severus and waved his hand to refill their glasses. He should call Severus tomorrow, after work, he decided. It was clear Rachida was very close to breaking up with him, so he shouldn't waste any time. Harry didn't like to think about the foul temper he would be subjected to if Severus got ditched.

"Did those glasses just refill themselves?" Rachida asked, confused.

"Mmh?" Harry asked, looking up and taking a sip from his second Martini. Rachida was staring at him oddly.

"Those glasses..." she said, "Did they...?"

Harry froze mid-swallow.  _Fuck._

"They _did_ ," Rachida whispered as she scooted forward to the edge of her seat, "Wow. Did... Did you do that?"

Harry quickly took another gulp of his drink, wracking his brain to come up with an unsuspicious answer.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant about it. He heard a clattering noise coming from the kitchen and he turned his head, only to see the collander had fallen to the floor. William's attempt to create a diversion, he assumed. Rachida was still staring at him, though.

"You can... do things?" she hesitantly asked, "You're some kind of... erm..." She shook her head, as if by doing so the right word would come tumbling out of her brain.

Harry sighed. He turned his head towards William in the kitchen, shrugged, resigned, and waved his hand again. The refrigerator door opened and a small bowl came zooming towards them and gently settled on the coffee table. Rachida just stared at it. When she finally looked up, Harry wouldn't have thought to see her smiling. But there she was, shaking her head with a grin on her face.

"No use crying over spilled milk," Harry muttered, a little annoyed, as he picked up the bowl, "I'd prefer it if you keep this to yourself, of course. Care for an olive?"

He was a little taken aback to see her popping one into her mouth without so much as a flinch.

"You don't want to double-check those olives for poison?" he couldn't help but smirk.

Rachida shrugged. "I figure if you wanted to kill me it would be a piece of cake for you anyway and you wouldn't do it with poisoned olives."

"Fair point," Harry conceded, smiling, "Apart from that, you seem to be taking this fairly well. Frankly, I'm a bit disappointed you aren't properly impressed."

"Oh, I'm impressed," Rachida admitted, "But I always suspected there was something more to you than the eye could see. I just didn't expect it would be something like... I mean, Severus told me you were really just an average student... Lacked willpower to actually get somewhere and all that..."

"Did he?" Harry smiled, "Well, coming from an average teacher, I'm sure that means... Rachida?"

The woman had hid her face behind her hands.

"Fuck..." he heard her whisper. Her face was ashen when she looked at him again and her eyes were round and incredulous.

"I can't believe how stupid I've been," she was shaking her head, "He was your teacher. So he's like you, isn't he?"

Harry cursed internally. He hadn't thought of that. Of course she'd make the connection. How stupid of him. He thought about what to do. He guessed she wouldn't believe it if he were to deny it. But if he didn't, then she would confront Severus about it and then Severus would come storming in tomorrow to have his balls. He rubbed his nose again. He was aware he'd been doing that a lot the last few minutes.

"Fuck!" Rachida actually punched the pillow next to her before she jumped out of the sofa and started pacing.

"Rachida..." Harry tried, feeling a bit startled.

"No," she said resolutely and she held out a finger to silence him, "Crap, Harry, this is much bigger than I would have... Eight years, and he hasn't... Bloody bastard. But he's not getting away with this."

"Rachida, Severus is..."

"Screw him," she cut him off frostily, "I'm damn well tired of his lies. And he's gonna know it."

She went for the front door then, and Harry jumped up and followed her, heart crashing in his chest. He should stop her, shouldn't he?

"You shouldn't talk to him when you're this angry, you know that."

"Don't give me that 'You're not thinking clearly' - rubbish," she said fiercely, and, as Harry wanted to retort, she made a dismissive gesture, "Never mind. I know what to do."

And with those words, she'd opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

Harry stood mutely in the hallway, debating with himself whether to go after her or not. He was convinced it was a bad idea to try to stop her. How things could have escalated so quickly he didn't know. He hung his head. William had come up behind him and was gently rubbing his shoulders. Neither man said anything

 _I messed up_ , Harry thought,  _I messed up._

_Oh fuck. I messed up._

+++

William had been right. Harry didn't even have to wait until noon before Severus came barging in at his office. Harry's assistant followed after Severus with an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry," he sounded flustered, "Mister Snape doesn't have an appointment, but he emphasized it couldn't wait. Is that all right with you, Mister Potter?"

Severus had immediately sat down in the chair opposite him, arms on the elbow rest. Harry gauged him for a moment, but he couldn't detect a single emotion on the man's face. He swallowed. If he guessed correctly, that meant Severus was really mad. Why else would he keep himself so perfectly composed?

"No problem, Jasper," he answered politely, "Thank you for showing him in."

"Storm in, more likely," Jasper muttered very quietly, then closed the door behind him again.

Harry took in Severus' gaze. The mask had fallen off.

"Hm," Harry coughed, "I would invite you to take a seat, but it seems like a bad day for pleasantries."

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Severus hissed as he leaned forward in his chair. Harry looked at the man's balled up fist on the table. He sighed.

"Severus, I'm sorry..."

"Rachida's gone," he interrupted coldly, "Says she never wants to see me again. All because you spilled secrets to her. Why the fuck did you do that?"

Harry looked at his hands. He didn't know what to say.

"If this is some kind of despicable scheme to drive her away from me and try to get into my pants, I'm sorry to say you've only succeeded partly."

Harry sat back in his chair, trying hard not to let his anger show.

"I'm your friend," he remarked curtly, "But I have to say you're doing a pretty decent job at burning that bridge right now. You can either let me explain or you can leave, it's up to you."

"Oh, if it's up to me..." Severus started to sneer, eyes flashing dangerously, but Harry didn't give him a chance to finish. He knew where this was heading and he'd be damned if he'd let it escalate.

"For fuck's sake, Severus, I don't have time for this," he sighed, "Yes, I did magic in front of her. It was an accident, all right, I didn't realize I was doing it. But it was she that made the connection with you. I didn't tell her anything! I told her again and again it wasn't my place to say anything and that she should speak with you!"

"You should have denied it," Severus retorted harshly.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Harry shook his head, "She'd already guessed and it would only have made her more angry. You didn't see her. She's a force of nature when she's mad."

"You're pathetic."

Harry took a deep breath and decided to let that one slide. It wouldn't further their conversation.

"I thought that perhaps she would have cooled down a bit during the drive home," he muttered.

"Obviously not."

Harry rubbed his face.

"She didn't take it well, then, I assume?"

"What do you think?"

Harry held out his hands in a desperate gesture.

"I don't know," he exclaimed, frustrated, "It seemed to me she was okay with the magic part. So I thought there might be some hope for you, if you only came out to her openly! That's what she took issue with in the first place: you not being honest with her."

Severus crossed his arms in front of him and sat back.

"You should have stayed out of this, Harry," he muttered bitingly.

"Hey, it was she that came to me," Harry countered, incensed, "And what choice did she really have with you leaving her hanging like that?"

Severus glared and gave him the silent treatment. Harry just sighed.

"What did she say when she came back?" he asked, "That she'd been at my place and that I told her all about you being able to do magic?"

Severus nodded reluctantly after a few seconds.

"You know now that's not true. I would never do such a thing and you should have realized that sooner," he continued, "What's more important, I think, is how you reacted. Wait, you didn't reveal anything about Death Eaters, did you? Because, after such a big revelation, that would have been too much for anyone."

"Of course not," Severus replied, irritated, "I'm not an imbecile!"

"Then what did you say?" Harry asked, "Remember, I'm only trying to help you here."

"There wasn't anything to tell. I simply denied everything."

Harry frowned.

"You what?"

"Harry, hasn't it occurred to you there might be a reason I've been keeping quiet to her about my past?"

"Of course," Harry replied, "I know your past almost as well as you do. And I'm pretty sure there isn't anything in it horrible enough to scare a woman like Rachida away."

Severus scoffed. Then he suddenly shrugged, resigned.

"Well, it's a moot point anyway. She left."

Harry shook his head.

"So let me get this straight. You saw how mad she was and you still denied everything?"

Harry didn't think Severus could look any more sour than he did.

He shook his head again.

"I admit I made a mistake, but you realize your reaction is probably what chased her away, do you?"

"That's ridiculous..."

"Severus, one of the last things she said when she left my house was that you weren't getting away with this. Does that sound like someone who's given up on you?"

"Harry, I wasn't about to tell her!"

"The woman's only loved you for eight long years," Harry replied, incredulous, "She deserved that much."

Severus pointedly averted his gaze.

"Look at William and me. It worked just fine for us, didn't it?"

"Well, you lived the life of a bloody hero," Severus replied, "You revealing everything just means you have one more person to fawn over you."

"I repeat: Rachida isn't that faint-hearted. You should have tried her."

Severus sighed, rubbed his face, then ran a hand through his hair and got up.

Harry looked up at him, a bit nonplussed.

"Never mind," Severus said, "What's done is done. I guess I have to live with it."

"You're not going to try to win her back?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

Severus shook his head. "I tried that with Lily once, remember?"

"For your information," Harry retorted, "I think you're an idiot."

To Harry's surprise, Severus sighed and nodded: "Probably."

He saw Severus eyeing the stack of papers on his deck.

"I'm sorry, I see you have a lot of work to do. I'll better leave you to it," he said, then added as an afterthought, "I shouldn't have gotten mad at you."

"Story of our life," Harry smiled hesitantly. As Severus walked to the door, he tilted his head and asked: "Do you want me to talk to Rachida?"

Severus turned around just slightly, doorknob in his hand.

"Heaven's forbid, no," he replied, "I'm just going to pick up my life where I left it. That's what I'm going to do."

As Harry shook his head, Severus seemed to think of something.

"Starting with our friendship, which I've really been neglecting," he continued, "Do you have time for a drink in the Hog's Head this Saturday?"

Harry knew it probably looked silly, but he didn't care. He couldn't help smiling softly.

+++

January the 14th 2025

The Ministry's Event Hall was absolutely packed. Harry thought that if they'd tried to cramm in one more person, the walls would probably collapse. Since Hermione took over the task of organizing the event, the annual New Year's drink seemed to attract ever more people. Harry took in the winterland-themed decorations from a safe corner of the room, resolved to stay as far away as possible from the punch bowl. Fifteen minutes earlier, when he had tried to get a drink, he'd first been addressed by Horace Slughorn, then by the Minister of Legal Affairs, and to top it off he'd been accosted by Gilderoy Lockhart and his wife. The tall, blonde woman had an aristocratic air about her and, with a smile that was both sincere and authoritative, she'd insisted to be introduced to 'the Saviour of the wizarding world'. Harry hadn't dared refuse. She'd held on to his hand awkwardly long, first praising Harry into the sky, then telling him about the many talents of her fiancé and in the end boasting about her own connections with the high and mighty. Harry had almost instantly known what she was up to and he had to suppress a smile, because it seemed Lockhart had finally found his perfect match in this ambitious woman.

"Well, I don't know about the Wizengamot," Harry had answered her question, "but I've heard the Department of Muggle Affairs is still looking for new cleaning personnel. Perhaps mister Lockhart can enquire there if he'd be interested?"

The woman had been taken aback for a moment, as Harry had expected, and he'd already seen his chance to make an elegant retreat. But then the woman had thrown a look at her fiancé and nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, yes," she'd mumbled absentmindedly, "You have to start somewhere, I guess."

She'd firmed her grip on his hand and had given him a winning smile.

"Perhaps I can ask if you'd be willing to support his candidacy then, Harry?" she actually beamed, "I'm sure you can imagine how happy we would be if my husband were to work for the Ministry."

Harry hadn't known whether to laugh or not. The woman was either incredibly daft or intriguingly cunning. He'd looked at Lockhart, who hadn't said a single word throughout their whole conversation and who was staring at the ground as if his laces had come loose and he was waiting for the go-ahead so he could tie them. Well well well. Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"I'll erm...," he'd coughed, losing the battle with the smile that was forcing his way through, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," she'd smiled sincerily and Harry had nodded and pulled his hand free, glad to see Hermione emerging from the crowd.

"I have to... erm," he'd indicated with his head and as the woman followed his gaze, she'd nodded.

"Of course," she'd said, "I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time."

 _No, you're not,_  Harry thought, but smiled.

"It was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps until next time?" she'd winked.

 _Please not_ , Harry silently prayed.

He'd intercepted Hermione, relieved to have escaped, but after a short hug it became clear she was too busy arranging the party, and so he'd ended up in the quiet corner he'd been in for the past few minutes. His gaze fell on the large stage in front of the room. There was a small table on which Harry knew the Order of Merlin stood that was being awarded tonight. It was covered by a cloth for the big revelation. Harry sipped his drink and took a look at his watch. Severus had said he'd be a bit later, but Harry hoped he'd still be in time for the opening speech.

Last year Harry had taken William to the New Year's reception, but a very good friend of William had been recently diagnosed with cancer and it wasn't looking too good. William had felt obligated to accompany him to the hospital to find out if the first results of the chemotherapy were positive and, not without some regret, had to take a raincheck for the reception. He hadn't minded Harry had asked Severus to go with him instead. He understood perfectly why Harry didn't want to be alone in a room full of people that were following his every move. It had taken Harry some effort though, to persuade Severus to get down from his ivory tower at Holland and Barrett.

"I have to work," Severus had argued.

"It only starts at seven," Harry had replied.

"Well, I have to work until seven."

"Oh, come on Severus. I'm asking you as a friend."

It had taken him half an hour of pleading before Severus had reluctantly agreed. Now it was half past seven and Harry was beginning to wonder if Severus had decided to leave him to his own devices after all. From his secluded spot in the corner he'd been keeping an eye on the entrance, but there'd been no sign of the man so far. He looked at his watch again.

He wondered if Severus would have the courage to comply with the dress code of the party. Harry looked at his outfit and grimaced again. White wasn't his color, but Hermione had insisted on it, claiming a whole room filled with people wearing only white would look fantastic. As always, Harry had to admit she'd been right. The picture was perfect: the white, flowing robes, dresses and suits went effortlessly with the decorations. Harry admired Hermione's handiwork. Large, white trees lined the edges of the room, fluffy snow twirled from the enchanted ceiling, and there were high, round tables covered with some sort of transparent white silk. Soft, bluiish light was emanating from floating, glass bulbs, creating a mysterious effect. The woman had talent, there was no other word for it.

"Don't tell me you're actually marvelling at this... this rubbish?" Severus' voice came from behind him. Harry chuckled quietly and turned towards the sound. The man was dressed in his usual black attire, was the first thing he saw.

'I thought you didn't want to attract attention tonight," Harry remarked and patted Severus on the back by way of greeting.

"Hmm, yes," Severus smirked as he looked at his clothes, "It seems I made a judgemental mistake there."

"Shall I?" Harry offered, taking out his wand. He was a bit curious to find out how Severus would look in white.

"Certainly not!" the man blustered, eyes growing wide as he took a precautionary step back.

"It wouldn't kill you, you know," Harry mentioned, chuckling. Severus eyed Harry mistrustfully until he'd put his wand away again.

"It just might," he answered and Harry laughed out loud at that.

"Here," Harry chortled, "I've fetched you a glass of punch a few minutes ago. I believe it's tradition to toast to the New Year."

They clinked their glasses and took a moment to take a sip.

"It seems I haven't missed much?" Severus gaze wandered over the crowd.

"Kingsley will be giving the opening speech in just a few minutes," Harry confirmed as he followed Severus' gaze, "Have you heard the news about Lockhart, though?"

"Gilderoy?" Severus asked, eyeing Harry with a curious look now, "I haven't, no."

"They're going to award him an Order of Merlin tonight," Harry whispered, "Nobody knows yet but a few people, and Lockhart himself of course. Top secret stuff."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Nuh-uh," Harry spoke quietly, "I heard his brand new financée made a real case for it. Caused quite a stir here at the Ministry. You remember his first Order of Merlin was retracted when it became clear he hadn't done any of the heroic things he'd been boasting about? Well, she claims now that Lockhart suffered horribly during the war – recall that memory charm that backfired on him in our second year? She argued that Order of Merlin was rightfully his for the trials he'd endured and had to be given back to him immediately."

"But how...?"

"Oh yeah, did I forget the part where she's funding the orphanage that the Ministry built after the war, for children who had lost their parents ? A huge benefactor, from what I heard."

Severus sighed and shook his head.

"It's always about money, isn't it?" he remarked, frowning.

"It is," Harry agreed, taking another sip. He let his eyes wander the crowd again. He debated with himself whether he should tell Severus about what he'd done, or not.

"You know the Order of Merlin used to be a medal?" he heard himself say and despite everything he smiled. Apparently he was telling him. _Okay, that was allright_ , Harry thought, _because it was just Severus, wasn't it_? The man nodded.

"And then they'd changed it to a small statue of a phoenix, in honor of Dumbledore's death?"

He saw Severus flinch for a moment and Harry could have bitten off his tongue. He'd forgotten that topic was still sensitive after all these years.

"It's over there, on the table, under the cloth," Harry pointed, "When I heard it was Lockhart who would receive it, I erm... I might have altered the statue a bit, just before the crowd came in."

He could see he had Severus' full attention now. Harry's lips curled up in a smile that couldn't be stopped even if he'd wanted to. Severus was looking at him with frank curiosity and there was a careful, questioning smirk on his face. Just then Kingsley's magnified voice called out over the crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he spoke, "Good evening, and welcome. I thank you all for coming here tonight in such large numbers. First and foremost, my best and most sincere wishes for the new year. 2024 was a challenging year for some, but I think I speak for all of us when I say we were there for one another when it was needed. I wish to thank you all for the hard work all of you did and for the things we've accomplished together. I can only hope 2025 will continue in much the same way, with many great achievements we can be proud of. I daresay Miss Hermione Granger has already set the bar quite high by taking up the organisation of this amazing New Year's feast."

There was a round of applause, then Kingsley continued: "Not to worry, I won't be speaking long, because in my opinion speeches usually take up too much time, better spent on eating and drinking. But there _is_ a special person we wish to laud tonight, at the beginning of a new year. Sir Gilderoy Lockhart, will you please come forward?"

The crowd applauded hesitantly as Lockhart climbed the stage. Harry had to admit he didn't look like a man who was overly enthousiastic at the prospect of receiving his trophy. Harry frowned a bit.

Kingsley introduced the man and launched into a compressed summary of the man's life and merits, leaving out the parts about wrestling with magical beasts and such Lockhart had lied about.

"Having recovered from a memory charm only a few years earlier, Lockhart has since been trying to put his life back on the rails. He has been sponsoring the Ministry's orphanage for many years now, for which we are of course tremendously thankful. For his courage, his generosity and for everything he went through to make the wizarding world a better place, we wish to award him with an Order of Merlin."

The applause, again, was hesitant, and the people had began to whisper amongst each other. Harry held his breath as Kingsley walked over to the table. With one careful movement Kingsley pulled away the cloth. A small, but clearly visible statue of a chicken was revealed to the crowd. Everyone fell silent. Harry bit his lip as he watched Kingsley and Lockhart stare at the thing. His heart started pounding as this whole joke suddenly appeared to him as a very bad, distasteful idea. How could he have thought this would be funny an hour ago? He should never have done it. What did he care if the man received a damn phoenix statue?

Then, for one eternal second, Severus' uncontrolled laughter rang loud and clear over the silence. He swallowed it instantly the moment he realized nobody else was laughing and put a hand over his mouth. He shot an incredulous but amused look at Harry, but immediately averted his gaze. Harry was thankful for that, because all around them, people were now starting to look for the person who could have pulled this prank. Harry felt like shit. This wasn't how he'd imagined it. It should have been funny, but it wasn't. Harry noticed Lockhart's fiancée, standing in front, looked anything but pleased.

On stage Lockhart seemed to have recovered from the surprise. Kingsley was clearly apologizing to him and, seeing that, Harry felt worse still. Then, to everyone's surprise, Lockhart picked up the statue and tried a hesitant smile. He addressed a few words of thanks, especially towards Kingsley and his fiancée. He held up the statue for everyone to see and promised he would find a prominent place for it in his house. The man was smiling broadly now, as if to communicate he could appreciate the joke.

Harry could only stare as Lockhart left the stage under moderate acclaim. The man had taken everything with such easy grace, Harry was truly impressed. And truly ashamed.

"Fuck," he whispered, and hung his head. He wondered if he should come out to Kingsley. His boss wasn't likely to be impressed by his behavior.

Harry jumped a little when Severus slung an arm over his shoulder.

"Perhaps we should get you something stronger," he proposed, "This punch is the worst I've had in many, many years. I'd say we go raid the kitchen."

Harry smiled at him. Then sighed. Then nodded.

+++

"How come  _you_  never showed up to receive your Order of Merlin?" Harry asked, half-jokingly. Severus looked at him sideways, then smirked, and Harry knew he wouldn't get a genuine answer. "Didn't you know? I couldn't come. I was suffering from a severe case of misguided modesty that day."

Harry laughed. He pulled in his legs and sat a little straighter. After they'd fetched a bottle of brandy and two glasses from the kitchen, Severus and he had wandered the halls for some time, until they'd found a spot where they'd sat down against the wall to have a drink. It had taken a while for Harry to come to terms with what he'd done earlier. He must have repeated how stupid he'd been about a dozen times, and Severus, not taking his lament serious for one moment, had of course agreed easily. It hadn't helped that Severus emphasized the joke had been hilarious, Harry was still resolved on explaining everything to Kingsley first thing Monday morning. Severus thought he was a fool, but Harry just waved that away.

"Let's talk about something else," Harry grumbled, "How are you holding up? It's been, what, just over three months now?"

For a moment, there was only silence. Then Severus sighed. Harry belatedly realized Severus must be getting tired of talking about it.

"For the umptieth time, I'm fine," the man rolled his eyes, "I've been without a partner for most of my life. If I didn't know how to handle it, do you think I would be here with you now, celebrating the new year?"

"Well, I still can't believe you didn't fight for her. She seemed like the perfect woman for you."

"I realize I probably won't meet the likes of her again," Severus sighed, "Obviously I'm not cut out to have a Muggle relationship. Or a relationship with a Muggle, I should say."

"You're just stubborn," Harry muttered, and gestured at Severus with his glass, "And probably afraid people will like you for what you truly are."

"Hm, quite an astute analysis, I must say," Severus smiled condescendingly.

Harry punched him softly on the shoulder, then smiled and took a sip.

"You and William seem to be doing well," Severus remarked, "You've been together for how long?"

"Exactly two years now," Harry smiled, "Yeah, it's going great."

William had been promoted a few months ago. His boss, Emmett, had found another job, and the family who owned the shoe store hadn't immediately been able to find a replacement. So they'd asked William to lead the shop, and ever since he didn't have Emmett breathing down his neck anymore, William had been much more relaxed when he came home. Their sex life had certainly benefited from it.

"Do I want to know what that randy smirk means?" Severus smiled, frowning.

"I hope not," Harry shot back, feigning horror.

Severus punched him back, then added: "Well, I'm glad you're happy. I really am."

Harry smiled and played with the buttons on his cuff.

"I guess he isn't your first boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend!" Harry protested. He took a large, indignant gulp and then almost choked in it.

"I'm forty-six, you know!" he coughed, wiping his tears away.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Severus apologized, "My mistake. I can see the dribble on your chin now. Perhaps I'd better take you to a nursing home right away."

Harry hung his head and laughed. He put his chin in his hand (he knew there wasn't any dribble on it!) and took extra care not to spill the brandy.

"For your information, the sex is still great."

"I bet."

"Actually, it's only getting better."

Severus shook his head at that, trying to act as if he wasn't turning red.

"But to answer your question," Harry said, "Yes, William is the first."

Severus looked at him doubtfully.

"Mmh, I'm finding that hard to believe. I mean, you're 'The Saviour'... You must at least have had some one-night stands?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Harry grinned and shook his head, "That wasn't my thing."

"I'm sure."

"What?"

"You expect me to believe you broke up with the mother of your children and then kept your hands above the sheets like an ignorant choir boy for almost ten years?"

Now it was Harry's time to blush.

"Well, I did kiss a few guys before I met William, of course."

Severus smirked and sneered: "Typically Gryffindor. You were a free man and what's the first thing you do? Chain yourself to someone else. You had a whole gay world of uncharted territory before you!"

"You'd be suprised how small that world really is," Harry told him, "I've been to some nightclubs in the beginning. It was always the same boring, pretentious people. It wasn't difficult to imagine how the sex would be."

Severus shrugged, but nodded to communicate he understood. He stared in front of him, a faraway look in his eyes.

"How does it feel, then," he asked as he took a swig, and wiped his mouth, "Kissing a man?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Different from kissing a woman," he deadpanned.

"Different how?"

Harry thought for a minute.

"Well," he said, "It's not _soft_. There's more roughness to it, more pushing and pulling. More tension. And at the same time it's more relaxed. You're not afraid to do something wrong, you know, because the other one' s just a guy too. It's actually a lot easier."

Severus nodded non-commitally. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"I've always liked kissing women," Severus shrugged, "I guess I like the subtlety and the softness that comes with it more."

"Ah, but I thought so too," Harry smiled, "But then I compared."

He thought for a minute, then frowned and shook his head. "Well... well, all right, I'll admit the first kiss wasn't much. But even then, it still made me realize I was never going back. Took away every trace of doubt I still had. I was like ' _Yep, this is it, guys_ '."

"Really?" Severus asked, looking sceptical.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "To be honest I was a little relieved to find I had a real, valuable reason to break up with Ginny. In hindsight, we were really driving each other crazy there in the end."

Severus pursed his lips. Harry nudged him, smirking.

"Maybe you should try it some time."

"Hm?"

"Kissing a man. You should."

Severus snorted.

"No, seriously," Harry was grinning broadly now, "How else would you now for sure, if you haven't even examined?"

"You call that 'examining', do you?" Severus smiled back, "Do I look that gay to you?"

"You know it hasn't got anything to do with whether you look it or not. Do  _I_ look gay?"

"Well. No."

Harry made a gesture with his hand as if to say ' _There you have it_ '.

Severus chortled and covered his eyes.

"And you'd be the willing victim, I bet?"

"Of course."

"I thought you would. You sleazy wench."

Harry burst out laughing. He realized he was really woozy, but it didn't matter. Severus was obviously tipsy as well, so... He looked at the bottle and picked it up.

"There's two more glasses in this," he observed, "What do you think?"

"A decidedly bad idea," Severus answered, and held up his glass.

"What did you do for Christmas actually?" Harry asked as he gave Severus a refill.

He shrugged. "Stayed at home. Read a book."

Harry eyed him. "Come off it, honestly?

"There was Thai take away and neighbours singing Christmas carols to keep me entertained."

"Oh, Severus, you should have told me. We could have invited you."

Severus wrinkled his nose and Harry knew better than to pursue the matter. It was a moot point in any case. Harry raised his glass.

"Anyway, to a happy new year," he suggested.

"Didn't we already toast to that?"

"To new year's resolutions, then."

"I'm not toasting to that."

Harry rolled his eyes and touched his glass to Severus'.

"I'm resolved on being more positive this year," Harry told him, "Really, don't you laugh. I'm going to stop whining about colleagues. What about you?"

"I think I'm going to stop drinking," Severus smirked as he took another sip.

"Admirable," Harry smiled.

They both looked up at the sound of a door slamming somewhere, a few corridors further. They listened, but no sound of footsteps came their way.

"Well," Severus said, then fell silent as he stared ahead. He had an absentminded look in his eyes. The man seemed to shake himself awake a moment later, and as he looked at Harry, he smiled.

"Well, talking about new year's resolutions," he continued, "Apparently I just made a new one."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

When nothing came forward, Harry asked: "Are you gonna tell me?"

"I'm so going to regret this," Severus smiled and shook his head, "But I want to try it."

"What, stop drinking?"

"You're probably right. How else would I know for sure if I haven't compared?"

Harry fell silent for a moment.

"Oh, you mean the 'kissing a man' - thing?"

Severus nodded.

"That was actually a joke, you know," Harry chuckled, "I'll admit, I'm not on top form today."

"You're chickening out?"

Harry's smile slowly slipped off his face as he realized Severus meant business.

"You mean...me?"

He trailed off, mouth slightly open.

"Shall I ask Lockhart instead?" Severus sneered.

Harry shook his head as he felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Wow, this is likely your worst idea _ever_."

" 's Not. It was  _your_ idea, remember? Perhaps I'll just ask Horace Slughorn then."

"Come here," Harry beckoned him closer, smiling. Severus leaned towards him just enough so Harry could put an arm around his shoulder.

"Should I do something?" Severus asked stupidly.

"Just shut up," Harry mumbled. He felt Severus' warm breath on his face and it felt so simple to lean in and nibble on the man's lips. Severus froze for just a moment, but it lasted only a second and then Severus kissed him back, hesitantly. Harry could feel the man tasting him, almost sampling him. He sighed. He lost track of time. _Didn't matter, it was warm and... and simply awesome_ , he thought. When he pulled his lips free again he saw Severus was a bit confused, but he couldn't mistake the small smile on the man's face. Encouraged, Harry put a hand on Severus' neck and pulled him back.

There wasn't any stubble, no tension, no roughness. Just an overwhelmingly relaxed feeling. Harry slowly breathed in and out through his nose. He could feel Severus' heartbeat at the pulse point in his neck and he smiled.

"All right?" he breathed, softly rubbing the man's neck as he observed him. There was a question in Severus' eyes, but Harry wasn't worried, he knew how to make the frown disappear, didn't he? He smiled broadly and dipped his head again.

He could hear Severus' sharp inhale and the next moment the man had drawn back. He held Harry at arm's length.

"Hold on, Harry. Stop," Severus whispered, shaking his head. He took a long look at Harry, than shook his head again.

"Fuck," he murmured and Harry could feel his heart sink as Severus shifted away.

"I thought we were... I mean... Wasn't this just...?" Severus mumbled. He cursed and covered his eyes.

"You're still in love with me, aren't you?"

Harry clamped down hard, very hard, on his disappointment.

"I'm so sorry," Severus hung his head, "I've had too much to drink, I didn't think... I erm... Oh fuck, I shouldn't have done this."

For a moment the enormity of it all seemed to swallow Harry and he felt the sob high in his throat, just waiting to be released. He looked at Severus and the only thing he could think about was that he didn't want to lose him. So Harry bit back on the stinging sensation in his throat and swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed again. He took a deep breath.

"It's allright," he mumbled, and he tried to keep his voice quiet so Severus couldn't hear it trembling.

"Shit, it's not allright," Severus bit his lip, "I've done it again. I've hurt you."

"Some," Harry conceded, "But it's okay, really."

"I should leave you alone. Apparently I'm not fit to keep you company."

"For Christ's sake," Harry sighed, "Will you please keep it together? I'm fine! I'm not falling apart, allright?"

Severus just stared at his hands. It seemed he was at a loss for words.

"I love you, I really do," Harry continued, "I shouldn't have allowed myself to believe... But I've been here before, and I know how to handle it. We wouldn't be friends if I hadn't proved I could. So stop it with the guilt already. It's useless."

Round, unsure eyes were staring at him.

"Are you going to tell William?" Severus asked quietly.

_William._

_Shit._

Harry had completely forgotten about him. Like, entirely forgotten the man existed at all. His mouth fell open slightly. _Fuck. How_...?

Harry struggled to get up. It didn't go fast enough and he cursed.

"Harry..."

"I have to go," he babbled, looking for support against the wall. He took a few unsteady steps back.

"I have to go," he repeated dumbly.

"Harry, it will break his heart. You know it will. And... I'm sorry, but for what?"

Harry bit hard on his tongue. He fervently squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He just wanted to punch Severus really hard right then. Severus covered his eyes with his hand.

Harry cursed. He couldn't stay there a moment longer. He took a deep breath and spun on the spot.

+++


	5. Time's a bitch

January the 14th 2025

Harry had done it all wrong. He realized that only when it was too late. He should have taken a sobering potion first, given the state he was in. He should have gone to find a night shop for a hangover cure somewhere in Diagon Alley and then he should have taken a nice long walk for an hour or two, or more. Given himself a moment to clear his thoughts, to think about what he was going to do now. But no. No, what Harry did, was stumble straight into the house after Apparating, flustered, reeking of brandy and guilt, his lips still oddly warm from Severus' kiss. He came upon William, already in his flannel pajamas, in the living room. His lover looked up from the book he was reading.

"Harry?" he frowned, worry almost instantly clear on his face the moment he saw him. It dawned on Harry how he must be looking. Dread hit him like a tidal wave. For one eternal moment Harry wanted to lie through his teeth and tell William he'd been attacked on the way home. He'd have to come up with a story about some guys who were after his smartphone, how they'd pulled their knives at him and he'd had no choice but to run. Just outrageous enough to make him believe it, perhaps. William had come out of the sofa and was walking towards him. Harry, feeling conscious, looked away and his gaze fell on the lit candles. There was a glass of red wine on the coffee table, the cookie jar right next to it. Harry remembered how he used to joke about William's preference for that odd combination. The electric blanket William loved so much had slipped from the sofa to the ground.

"Ah, fuck," Harry muttered as the shit he'd managed to land in dawned on him. He bowed his head to hide behind his hands. He swayed a bit and he realized he should be disgusted by himself. Well, he was.

"What's wrong?" William asked and Harry felt the gentle pressure of the man's hands on his shoulders, steadying him, "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head. No, he wasn't hurt. At least not in the way William meant. What he was, was drunk. There was no way he would be able to hold a conversation. He looked up into William's tense face and the tears welled up before he could stop them. He cursed himself.

"I did something," he blurted, and the moment he said it he could feel his face contort. What the hell was he doing? How drunk was he? William didn't deserve this. Fuck, he should have kept his mouth shut. He pulled himself free from William's grasp and went for the kitchen. He needed to sober up. He opened a few kitchen drawers and rummaged around for the right potion, but didn't immediately find it.

"What are you looking for?" William had come up behind him. His voice seemed more composed now he'd ascertained Harry wasn't physically hurt.

"I can't talk with you this way," Harry replied, and he instantly registered how rude that sounded, "I mean, I need to sober up. I can't just…"

"All right," William interrupted him with a sigh, "Step aside."

Harry did as he was told, thinking William wouldn't be so unconcerned if he knew... He watched as the man opened the cabinet to the far left. William always teased him about how he knew his way around the house much better than Harry did. Apparently he could even locate the sobering potion before Harry could. Harry took the vial with trembling fingers.

"Thanks," he muttered quietly and peeked at William from under his lashes. He was looking at him with mild amusement and Harry quickly stared at the floor again. He swallowed the contents of the phial and closed his eyes for a moment so he could experience the potion's effects. Anything to buy himself some time to gather his thoughts. The fog in his head gradually dispersed, like there was someone carefully picking out cotton wads one by one. The image that always came to Harry's mind was of an endless, crystal clear sky that was tucked in under the surface of his skull. He sighed deeply. He noticed his fingers had stopped trembling and the heavy feeling in his limbs had vanished. He could think clearly again and with it came the dreadful realisation that he'd probably smashed all his chances of a way out. In his drunken state he'd talked himself into a trap, and unless he came up with a brilliant story, it seemed it was going to be the truth for Harry and William. He wasn't going to be a coward about it, so he gathered his courage and looked William in the eye. His lover nodded at him in encouragement. God, he really didn't have a clue, did he? Well, how would he? Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself. He told himself William needed to know if they were ever going to have a chance at a future together.

"I kissed Severus," he admitted. The words seemed strange on his tongue now he'd spoken them. He felt like it was the most surreal thing he had ever said. So surreal, he wondered for a moment if it hadn't been all in his head. He'd imagined it so often after all, maybe it had been only a figment of his imagination. He shook his head. That was just ridiculous.

After a moment of blankness his words seemed to register, and William's eyebrows shot up.

"Severus?" he asked, "Really?"

Harry bit his lip, and immediately released it again, imagining how pathetic he must be looking. He wasn't going to behave like some child that had gotten caught. William deserved better than that.

"Wow, you must have been really shit-faced," William remarked, slightly incredulous. A startled laugh burst from his lover's lips and he shook his head, "No wonder you arrived here in such a state. How angry did he get?"

Harry stared at him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He rubbed his face, at a loss for what to say. He wondered if William was deliberately choosing to misinterpret the whole situation, and why.

"He didn't get angry," Harry quietly murmured, eyes cast down, "He, erm... apologized. It had been a mistake."

William frowned, leaning his head slightly back to gauge Harry.

"Wait, you mean to tell me it was Severus who kissed you?"

"No," Harry rubbed his arms, "I... I asked him for it."

He watched as William put his hands in his pajama pockets.

"I thought," William began, then fell silent for a few seconds. Harry bit his lip again as a frown appeared on the man's face.

"I thought this was some kind of drunken, erm... you know, a bet you made with your colleagues, or something. I mean... Why else would you kiss a straight man?" 

Harry bowed his head to look at his fingers. "It wasn't like that."

The hands dug deeper into their pockets and William lifted his shoulders defensively.

"Then what was it?" he asked. 

Harry sighed and shrugged, wondering how he was going to get out of the mess he'd talked himself in without hurting William too much.

"Look," he explained, "It didn't mean all that much."

"I'll decide that," William quietly murmured, then added as an afterthought, "Once I know what happened."

Harry rubbed his hands together as his eyes flitted about the room. He was aware he was trying to avoid looking at William.

"Let's talk over there," he proposed, indicating the sofa. He didn't wait for a reply and went back to the sitting room. When they'd installed themselves there, Harry grimaced. Yes, this is a much better place to tell William about the kiss, he thought sarcastically. He took a swig from William's wine, remembered he'd just downed a sobering potion and quickly put the glass back on the table.

"We were drunk," he began, but as he said it, it dawned on him it wouldn't have made a difference if they'd been sober. He'd still be guilty. He'd still feel devastated.

"I gathered as much from the way you walked in," William nodded. Harry observed him for a moment. He looked tense, but he didn't appear angry. At least, not yet.

"We were having a discussion about relationships," Harry continued, as he ran a hand through his hair, "Severus blamed himself because things hadn't worked out with Rachida, and the next thing I know he started pondering about how well you and I were doing in comparison. But he was just talking nonsense, you know, like he was truly convinced he wasn't cut out for love. And then I'd just... well, suggested maybe he should try kissing a man next time, if he was so unhappy."

"I see," William mumbled, staring at his twined fingers.

"It'd been a joke," Harry empasized, "I didn't think he'd take me up on the offer."

 So you offered?"

"No! I mean,…" Harry thought back on what had been said, and his shoulders sagged, "Well, I guess I did, but... I was just joking, you know."

"Harry," William sighed, as he rubbed his forehead, "Do you love him?"

"No, it's not like that. He's just a..."

At the look William gave him, Harry backpedalled.

"You're right," he scratched his ear, "You deserve the truth. I... erm... I did have a silly crush on him back when I had just left school. I mean, he was a war hero, and... and I guess I was just easily impressed those days."

William stared at him, quite long, and Harry averted his gaze. He was mortified to feel the sudden sting in his eyes. 

"Harry...," William sighed again, "Fuck. I'm sorry, but I'm not blind. If it was just an old crush, then why do you look as if the world has just come to an end?"

Harry bit hard on his lip and he could feel tears well over. There was no way of stopping them. A sense of doom settled heavily on his shoulders. He could just feel things starting to crumble down around him.

Sure enough, William echoed his thoughts.

"This is it, isn't it?" William muttered, eyes downcast, "You're breaking up with me?"

Out of respect for William, Harry tried his best to blink his tears away. It all came down to this point, didn't it? How many relationships hadn't survived because of the answer to this question? Fact was, Harry knew he didn't want to lose William at all.

"I'd think you'd want to break up with me now," he spoke quietly.

William shook his head, sighing, and stared off into space. Harry's fingers ached to take William's hand, just to re-establish contact, but he knew that would have to wait.

"What amazes me the most," William pondered, "is that Severus seems to be everything I'm not." He didn't elaborate, and Harry gazed at William's hands, which were lying like inanimate objects in his lap.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, not because he really wanted to know, but mostly to fill the silence.

William rolled his eyes at him. That used to be nothing to worry about, but Harry didn't think he'd count it as a reassuring sign right now.

"Come on, Severus is completely different than me," William seemed annoyed to have to explain, "If I've ever seen a stiff upper lip, it's surely him. He's condescending to the point of caricatural. To top it off, he's as old as your father. I've never been able to imagine what interests you could possibly share."

Harry, a little annoyed as well though he knew he had no right or reason to, picked at a spot on his trousers.

"Well, we shared a war, for instance," he muttered.

"Yes," William retorted glumly, "And now also a kiss apparently."

Harry cast his eyes down, shame tainting his cheeks. Maybe it was better to just keep his mouth shut.

"It shouldn't have happened," he said anyway, hearing how futile his words sounded the moment he spoke them, "Sorry. I really have no excuse. I love you. I still want you."

William rubbed his forehead and groaned exasperatedly. He then noticed his glass of wine on the table, picked it up and downed it in one go.

"If you were into dominant types, you could have just told me," he remarked, "We would have found a way."

Harry frowned. What on earth…?

"Harry, that man has BDSM written all over him," William rolled his eyes, and this time, incredibly, Harry thought that might be a good thing. He just shook his head. Severus wasn’t the type, he knew, but he could see why others would think so.

"Do you still want me, though?" he asked, looking William straight in the eye, "Now that you know?"

William put a hand on his arm, hesitatingly. 

"Shit," Harry heard him mumble and he watched as William closed his eyes and hung his head. When he opened them again, he placed his other hand on the other arm, and squeezed.

"It has never been a question of whether I want you or not," William spoke quietly, "Of course I want you. I will never stop wanting you. It's just... being sure now, that I'm second choice…"

Harry opened his mouth to contradict him – he really wasn't - but William immediately put a finger on his lips.

"It's better if you don't say it," he shushed, "That way I won't be able to hold it against you later. It would be hard for me to believe you in any case."

Harry blinked hard against the tears, but they came anyway. He'd picked up on the key word, and he clung desperately to it, like it was a rare bird that might fly away any moment.

"Later?" he whispered.

William regarded him for a moment, then shook his head, rather glum-faced. Harry's heart sank.

"I'd imagined this evening somewhat differently," he muttered, scratching his ear.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You didn't even ask me about Vincent," he continued. Harry didn't immediately see why that was important, until after a few seconds he realized that of course it was. His heart sank even further.

"Right," Harry admitted, guilt washing over him and leaving his cheeks red, "How is he?"

"Not good. The chemo didn't work as well as the doctors had expected."

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, feeling miserable and inadequate and unable to look William in the eye. He heard William taking a breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him put his empty glass back on the table.

"I shouldn't expect you to remember about Vincent when we've got this hanging over our heads, I know," William sighed, "It's just that I'm finding it hard to think rational at the moment."

"Me too," Harry whispered.

"Don't take this too hard, but I think I need a night on my own right now."

Harry took a moment to digest this, and when he had he nodded slowly.

"I'll take the sofa," he proposed, feeling numb.

William nodded absentmindedly and stood up to take his glass to the kitchen. He turned around and leaned against the counter for a while. Harry didn't dare interrupt his thoughts.

"All right, we'll talk in the morning," William tiredly rubbed his face. He walked back and picked up the blanket from the floor to hand it to Harry, who took it on autopilot. William bent to kiss the top of his head and Harry lifted his face to offer his lips without thinking, but that made William falter.

"I can't kiss you when you've just kissed Severus," he shook his head, "I'm sorry. Not just yet."

Harry nodded in understanding. He told himself he should be happy with the gentle pressure of William's hand on his back, and he was. But as he watched William climb the stairs a moment later, he couldn't help but notice the hunched, insecure set of the man's shoulders and he wondered in silence how he'd managed to alienate the two men he loved most in one single night.

                                                                                                                        +++

November the 9th 2025

Time’s a bitch sometimes, Harry thought, people say it heals but in the end it always comes back to bite you. Always.

About eleven months later found Harry and William standing in the kitchen, facing each other. The past hour and a half things had been said, some of them true, and now a windless silence had drifted down between them. The irony of it all, Harry thought, was that, after months of... well... downright awkwardness, they could at least meet each other's eyes again. For what it was worth. The phone rang a third time. William continued to stare at him and they both listened placidly to the sound of Harry's mobile, which was vibrating insistently on the coffee table.

"You ought to take that, I think," William remarked dryly. Harry waved offhandedly. He couldn't imagine anything important enough right now. The phone kept ringing, though.

"Really," William insisted, rolling his eyes, "This is the third time they've tried calling. Go on."

Harry sighed irritably and went to retrieve his smartphone from the table. The display told him it was Ginny. "Great," he grumbled. 

"I didn't get a smartphone so you could bother me every other minute, Gin," he muttered when he had picked up the phone. It was silent for a few seconds on the other end.

Then: "Oh, I'm bothering you, am I?" Ginny answered frostily. It was a tone Harry wasn't used to from Ginny and it made him pay attention.

"I can't believe you forgot to pick up the kids again, Harry!" she said testily, "That's the second time now you ruined my date night with Samuel. I'm beginning to think you're doing it on purpose."

Harry frowned. Kids? He couldn't recall anything about…

His mouth fell open and he checked his watch. Bugger, he'd completely forgotten... 

"Fuck," he whispered sincerily, "I'm sorry, Gin."

"Well, there's still time. The restaurant wasn't expecting us till ten minutes ago, but if you can Apparate here immediately we would only be about twenty minutes late."

Harry shot a glance at William, who was standing by the window now, looking out on the fields with his back to Harry.

"Erm…"

"Don't tell me it's an inconvenient time!" Ginny warned hotly.

Harry hesitated. "Well, it kinda is..." he tried, while he massaged his forehead.

"What on earth can be so damn important..." she continued, but Harry cut her off.

"Gin," he interrupted quietly, "I'm breaking up with William."

That brought her up short.

"What...?"

Harry sighed. "So. You understand my predicament."

"Holy cra…"

"Would you mind very much," Harry ploughed on, "very sorry, but to postpone…"

"Why are you breaking up? I thought things were getting better now?"

"Gin," he whispered urgently again, throwing a furtive glance at the window, "I can't explain this over the phone. I really should be getting back to William. I'm truly sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Shit, Harry..." she uttered on a shaky breath, "I don't know why you decided... But you know you can call on us if you need anything, right? Are you okay?"

Harry couldn't help but snort quietly.

"Well, of course you're not," Ginny admitted, "But really, if you need to talk about it. Anything at all. If you need a place to sleep or... erm…"

There was a moment of silence, and then she continued, sounding rather firm suddenly: "Don't give me that look, we can make arrangements if he needs... I know he has a house. I'm still offering!" Harry could imagine Samuel had been shaking his head at Ginny, and despite everything, he smiled softly.

"Thanks, Gin, but that won't be necessary."

He took a short breath as he rubbed at a spot on the armrest of the sofa.

"I'm going to have to hang up now," he murmured, "We'll be fine. I promise. I'm sorry I let you down."

He could hear Ginny expelling a tired, quivering breath that made him want to pull her into a hug.

"I don't know what to say to you," she said quietly, "I honestly don't."

"It's a mutual decision," Harry tried to reassure her, but to be honest he still wasn't certain about that part.

They hung up with awkward “bye's” and Harry threw the phone on the sofa while rubbing his eyes. When he looked up, he noticed William had turned around again. He had a peculiar, incredulous expression on his face. Harry couldn't immediately read it.

"What?" he asked, and he heard the defensive undertone in his own voice.

William chuckled for a moment and rubbed his neck.

"You forgot the kids again, right? Look," he said, as he put up his hands in an apologetic gesture, "You're not going to want to hear this, I know. But this is exactly what I've been talking about."

Harry frowned. "I don't follow, sorry."

"That's what I mean with how you constantly seem to forget things. Remember you never showed up in that Japanese restaurant where we were supposed to celebrate our first anniversary?"

"I told you I was sorry about that," Harry scowled, "It'd been..."

"A busy week, yes," William muttered quietly, though he did smile a little, "Then there was that one time you forgot to pick up those flowers for my mum and we arrived at her birthday party empty-handed?"

"You're trying to make me feel bad," Harry mumbled glumly.

"No, honestly," William shook his head, "I'm... I guess I'm just trying to give examples. Ever since that last Ministry party in January you seem... distracted. And I don't think it's got anything to do with work either. Perhaps not even with Severus. It’s just... There’s something different about you."

"I know I've not been very attentive," Harry huffed, feeling guilty, "but could you at least try to not rub my nose in it?"

"Well, to be honest, I feel I'm entitled to. You did call me Severus by mistake," William replied and he offered Harry a patronizing smile, "Twice."

"That's not even funny."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, at least it wasn't during sex."

Harry's mouth snapped shut the moment he'd said it. Shit. William let out an indignant cry and went looking for something to throw at Harry. The first thing he got his hands on turned out to be Lucy's pigmy puff-shaped stress ball. To William's credit, it did bounce off of Harry's shoulder rather violently. It didn't hurt, but Harry rubbed the spot on principle. They looked at each other, wearing matching incredulous expressions, then both men started to laugh.

"I can't believe I said that," Harry wondered, "I don't know why I did. Just in case you're thinking I'm not taking this seriously: I'm sorry."

William shrugged. "It's allright. It's true, you never did call me Severus while we were making love. Hardly difficult, since the last time we had sex was eight bloody months ago."

Harry didn't have a reply to that. He quickly turned red.

"And now isn't that saying something," William continued, as he cracked a smile and lifted one eyebrow in challenge, "A real cockblocker, Severus, if you ask me."

Harry shook his head. "But all joking aside... I still can't seem to wrap my head around it. We were good together, weren't we? I truly believe we should have been able to overcome the... what happened with Severus. So how did we end up here?"

"Well...," It was the first time William seemed to hesitate, "Don't you think we've both been waiting for this day to come? We've known it for a while now. Ever since that kiss with Severus... Don't look at me like that. You can deny it all you want, but it hasn't been the same ever since. I admit you tried your best to make me feel wanted the last few months. All the times you made dinner for me when I got home late, the gifts, the compliments, the way you listened to me talk about work every evening,… Don’t think I didn’t appreciate all that. But you must have noticed perhaps, that after a while I still appeared to be... waiting, I guess. Then I asked myself: Harry’s making an effort, for God’s sake, why can’t it be enough? And it only dawned on me a few weeks ago. All this time I thought I was waiting for you to do or say something, anything, when in fact I was waiting for my own feelings to come back. I know it sounds dramatic, but that they’d gone in the first place was quite the wake up call for me. It’s not that I don’t care about you anymore, but right now you're more like... I know, horrible thing to say, but... more like a brother to me."

Harry couldn't help smiling at the irony and he hung his head.

"So. Like the princes after all."

"Huh, indeed," William admitted, then after a moment, smirked, “I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Two brothers banging each other? Deadly hot but commonly frowned upon, isn’t it?”

“Ah, fuck William,” Harry scrunched up his nose, “Is it just me or are you looking for an excuse to start fantasizing about prince Harry and prince William again?”

“You have to admit it sounds enticing.”

“It sounds nasty.”

“You kissing Severus, now that’s gross.”

Lucy’s stress ball ricocheted right back of William’s chest.

“Auwch. Jackass.”

Harry snorted, then laughed.

“You know, I think it’s amazing that we can talk about this and even make fun of it...”

“Do you see me laughing?” William grumbled, rubbing the spot on his chest.

“Oh, please, that didn’t even hurt,” Harry scoffed, but got closer anyway.

“Episkey,” he mumbled and ghosted his fingers over William’s chest to alleviate the pain.

They stood facing each other for a few silent seconds, then Harry leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“So,” he sighed and grimaced awkwardly, “What now?”

William looked away for a moment and Harry thought he looked a bit guilty somehow.

“I’ve, um... I’ve actually spent some time thinking about that already,” William muttered, as he ran a hand through his beard, “And well,... you know the studio above the shop? It’s up for hire again... So, yeah…”

Harry bowed his head so William wouldn’t immediately notice the sudden lump in his throat. This was it, wasn’t it, he thought, he would be alone again sooner than he could say...

“Yeah, I understand,” he mumbled, “it’s probably the best thing to do.”

He looked at William’s shoes, which were made of fine leather, and had a checkered pattern. William had bought them online recently, and, claiming an owner of a shoe store should always look his best, paid almost 400 pounds for them. Well, Harry had to admit William knew how to dress like a gentleman.

“Hey,” William softly said, tugging on his sleeve, and Harry let himself be pulled into a hug.

“This is a mutual decision,” William slowly rubbed his back, “Don’t forget that.”

“I know, I know,” Harry answered quietly. He felt relieved that he didn’t have to explain further. William understood well enough. When they stepped out of their embrace sometime later, it felt to Harry as if they’d taken their first real step away from each other.

“We might feel the opposite right now, but this can be a good thing,” William was the voice of reason.

A good thing. Huh. Harry nodded. 

“Yeah, a good thing,” he repeated. This could be a good thing, he was sure.

Time’s a bitch.

                                                                                                                            +++

July the 31st 2027

“Oh, come on, dad,” Lucy laughed exasperatedly, “Just admit that chocolate and chili pepper don’t go well together in a birthday cake.”

“Jamie Oliver’s recepy said…”

“I know. You told me that already. But you see, dad, Jamie Oliver is ancient. Someone should probably mention to him his food experiments are getting dangerous.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at the table, then smiled despite himself.

“I admit Samuel’s looking a little green,” he smirked, and Lucy poked him laughingly in the ribs. Harry flicked some soap suds in her direction and she jumped back, yelping.

“Hey, watch it!” she called, “This is silk, you know!”

She started dabbing at her blouse with the kitchen towel.

“It’s only water,” Harry shrugged. She didn’t even look up to offer a scathing retort.

“You’re only making it worse, grumpy,” he smirked.

“Ugh, dad,” she glared at him, “Sometimes you can be such a...”

She didn’t finish her sentence, bowed her head again and pressed the towel even more firmly at the stain. Harry tried to swallow his laughter and thought it best to just continue with the dishes. He had to grant it, though: the birthday cake hadn’t been his best idea.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask,” Lucy continued as if nothing had happened, “I have to get my schoolbooks tomorrow. They’re organizing an early sale on the campus. Can you take me there? Mum has to go to work.”

“Mmh, leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?” Harry commented dryly, “I hope that won’t hold true for your studies as well.”

“I’m not late,” she replied with an offended frown, “Didn’t I just say it was an early sale?”

“I meant you asking me to drive you.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, “Well... yes, I guess you’re right about that. 

Harry smiled at her warmly.

“But,” she added more briskly, “I couldn’t ask earlier, you know. I’ve been busy the last few days.”

“Mmh,” Harry nodded, trying to reign in his chuckle because he’d already heard all about it from Ginny, of course, “with Felix then, is it?”

Now that is a proper blush, Harry thought, amused, then suddenly felt guilty for teasing her when he noticed the look on her face. He’d always sworn he would never be a parent like that, because he’d hated it himself when he was baited as a child.

“Sorry,” he apologized before she could even say anything, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Her sour expression softened and the tension visibly left her shoulders.

“Well, yes,” she muttered, “Just what I’d been about to say. None of your business.”

 "I know, I know,” he replied.

Lucy looked at the teacup she was toweling off, took a deep breath and shook her head: “So I guess that means I’ll be taking the Tube to Chatham tomorrow then?”

“Excuse me?” Harry frowned.

“You didn’t answer my question about the schoolbook sale,” she reminded him and raised an eyebrow, “So I assume you’ll be too busy as well?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’ll take you there,” he replied as he rinsed off the cake-server, “I’m not letting my seventeen-year-old daughter take the subway all alone."

She was about to reply, but Harry cut in quickly: “And no, you’re not apparating there by yourself either. You know what we’ve agreed to. It’s a Muggle University, and the risk of anyone noticing you is too high.”

“I was only going to say ‘thank you’,” she smirked.

 "Oh, well,” he mumbled, realizing he was being a tad overbearing again, “You’re welcome, of course.”

“You do realize I’ll be taking the Tube every single day come October?”

“Yes, but then Jessica will be joining you, won’t she?”

“Yeah, dad,“ Lucy laughed, “Don’t fret.”

Harry nodded and decided to shut his mouth. Actually he was extremely proud his daughter was starting nursing studies at a Muggle University. First she’d had to take an admission test to assess how much she knew about maths and chemistry and, well,  the arithmancy and potions classes she’d had at Hogwarts could only get you so far. But Lucy had set her mind to it once she knew what was required and had studied maths and chemistry in her free time all year. Harry, having gone to a Muggle elementary school, had tried to help her where he could, but in the end, she’d succeeded mostly on her own. Liam for his part, twenty now, was studying Social Sciences, but lately Harry got the impression his son wasn’t happy with his choice anymore. He was always talking about how he’d anticipated his studies to be more ‘hands-on’, whatever that might mean, and that he was thinking about traveling around the world. Apparently neither of his children had been keen for their father to arrange them a job at the Ministry. Harry had to admit he was very fine with that. Being a minister, he’d probably be accused of favouritism anyway.

“I assumed you’d be out with Severus tomorrow, actually,” Lucy’s voice cut through his thoughts, “Looked for a moment like you were avoiding my question earlier, so I thought... Don't you guys always celebrate your birthdays together?”

“We did,” Harry replied, “Just this Friday.”

 "How is he?”

“Well, you know him,” Harry smirked, “Always whining and complaining about his colleagues.”

“He does, at that,” Lucy agreed, rolling her eyes.

Harry pulled out the sink plug and got a second towel to help his daughter.

“How is Vincent doing, by the way?” she mused, “I was just thinking about him the other day.”

“He’s going through another series of chemotherapy,” Harry shrugged, “They’re keeping him stable for now. It’s not been easy the last few months, from what I heard.”

“He’s still living with…”

“William, yes.”

Lucy finished toweling a plate and put it on the counter in silence.

“Well, I think it’s brave of William,” she pondered aloud.

“It is,” Harry acknowledged, “Brave. And masochistic.”

She didn’t reply to that. Perhaps she too was suddenly reminded of the fact that she’d more or less said the same about him and Severus many months ago. Harry smiled briefly.

It had been awkward reacquainting with Severus, especially after his break-up with William. Severus felt extremely guilty about it all. Still did, as a matter of fact. But Harry was nothing if not tenacious about his friendships. It took him nearly two years to convince Severus that their kiss wasn’t still between them, but very much behind them, but convince him he did. Harry wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t going to lose Severus over something like that. With William gone, he knew he would be needing him (and wasn’t that a selfish thought?).

So what did it matter if Severus had gone a bit quiet around him? The man needed time to adjust, that much was obvious, so Harry was prepared to give him that. And things were getting better lately, weren’t they? Severus would talk about work, about a book he’d read, a fine wine he’d drank, about his next potions’ project. And Harry would listen, and comment sometimes, and once in a while when things got quiet again between them, he would catch Severus looking at him, wearing a peculiar, somewhat curious expression.

“I like your company, Severus,” Harry would patiently explain, whenever the man wondered aloud what they were playing at, seeking each other out every time, “I wouldn’t trade it for anything else”. He’d pat Severus’ hand, Severus would shake his head and they’d go back to drinking. As such was the nature of their relationship.

Except, a tiny thread of disquiet had wormed itself into his thoughts a few days ago. It was something Severus had said when they’d met last Friday, at the pub. Harry had called Severus to ask when he’d be there, since the man was running a bit late. Severus, though, was taken aback and claimed that they’d agreed to meet the following Friday. They had a short discussion, with each checking their agenda’s - Harry’s said this week, Severus had written down next Friday – and in the end Severus had come to the pub since he hadn’t planned anything else anyway.

When they sat there with their drinks and Severus had toasted to Harry’s birthday, the man guided their conversation back to the earlier miscommunication between them. Severus pointed out that it was the second time now they’d got the date wrong. A few months ago, Severus told him, it had been him waiting in vain for Harry to show up. Harry just frowned at that. Severus took in his non-reaction, put his drink back on the table and gave him a grim look.

“You don’t remember?”

Harry laughed nervously and took a swig to hide his embarrassment. He watched as Severus ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. That used to be something Harry found enticing, but instead an inexplicable frisson ran up his spine. 

“I have to tell you something,” Severus said, eyes downcast, “To be honest, I’ve been getting worried, Harry, because misunderstandings keep cropping up between us. Simple things, like getting the date wrong, or me being sure I told you something and then finding out that apparently I didn’t. I’m getting older, and... well, it struck me as odd. Don’t you agree? Things like that never happened before. So I went to see a doctor.”

Harry could feel his frown getting deeper. Severus fell silent as they stared at each other.

“Well?” Harry prompted finally.

Severus shrugged. “They couldn’t find a thing.”

Harry blinked and for a moment couldn’t find any words. He was aware of Severus’ intent gaze on him.

“Huh,” he mumbled hoarsely, “that’s great, isn’t it?”

He offered Severus a smile, but the man only looked back until it slid unacclaimed off his lips.

“Harry,” Severus gently spoke, as he put a hand on his wrist, “I think you should see a doctor.”

Harry started to shake his head immediately. He almost didn’t register Severus squeezing his hand and emphasizing that it would simply be as a precaution. He didn’t register it, because the moment Severus had said those words, an unsettling sense of déjà-vu came over Harry. He knew instantly what the doctors would say. Because something was wrong, wasn’t it? This was exactly what William had been going on about. William had noticed it, and Harry had dismissed it. And now Severus had noticed it too and how was he going to dismiss anything now when Severus had his finger on the sore spot? He'd tried not to let his anxiety show and ordered another drink. Severus had tried to talk to him about it, but Harry had refused.

“I’ll go to the goddamn doctor, Severus,” was the last thing he’d said about it, “But will you please shut up about it now?”

Severus had respected that, and started talking about something else, but the whole evening was overshadowed by a feeling of foreboding. He’d been glad when the time to go home rolled around.

Harry put down his towel and looked at the teacups and the plates. He pushed off from the counter to put them back in the kitchen closet. Then he turned to his daughter. 

“All done,” he smiled brightly and threw an arm around her shoulder, “Why don’t we go back and see if Samuel and Liam have finished their game of wizarding chess yet. Last one to leave the kitchen is a loser. No, even better: is definitely in love with Felix...”

Lucy shot out of the kitchen with a shrieking giggle.

                                                                                                                               +++


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